Shadows of Light
by Ardent Entity
Summary: COMPLETE Nobody would put it past Malfoy to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Full summery in
1. One: Punishment?

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Author's Note: Hello all, you might know me as the author of Against All Odds and if you do, why the hell are you reading this? Against All Odds sucked, but this is better! If you read one thing of mine, please read this and not Against All Odds! I'm asking you now, please be patient with me because I might not update as regularly as I did with what shall now be referred to as "the other fic". Okay, this author's note is very important because first of all, it's probably the third time I've written an author's note for this chapter (I don't know why that makes this A/N important, but hear me out! Besides, I'm wired on Pepsi right now!) Secondly, if you are going back and reading this from the first… or _second_ time I've changed it… I would just like to say to you, that until I update a sparkling new chapter, this will be the last time I change this story! Yay! Shadows of Light is going to be completely revolutionized once Lyssa (my beta-reader who is also a very gifted writer-go read her stuff!) my editor Alexa, and I get finished with it.. Don't worry, same plot… Just more! *evil maniacal grin*

  
  
  
**Pairings: **Draco and Hermione (of course)

  
  
  
  
**Rating:** As of now, PG-13

  
  
  
**Disclaimer: **If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 15 year old girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Summary:** Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. Endangering her life also sounded like the sort of thing he would do. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Shadows of Light  
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**Chapter One  
  
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His gray eyes scanned the platform apathetically. His face was devoid of any emotion, giving his features a snobbish bored aspect. However, Draco Malfoy was anything but bored. He watched the crowds scamper and scurry to get on the Hogwarts Express lazily from his comfortable seat on the train.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The truth was, he was rather looking forward to Hogwarts this year for a change. He watched as a group of fearful looking first years were trampled over by a hurrying group of older students. Yes, he was quite excited about Hogwarts this year, he mused staring absently at Neville Longbottom who had tripped over a second year on his way to the train and was now apologizing profusely.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Two great figures loomed over the crowd which parted despite the confusion on the platform. Crabbe and Goyle clambered onto the train. Draco could have sworn he felt it rock slightly as their large feet made contact. His lips formed around a smirk.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
In a few minutes' time, they would come thundering into his pleasantly empty compartment. Not that Draco minded. They were his friends, if you could call them that. He only knew them as big and incredibly stupid, two qualities that made them easy to bend to his will.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Outside, the barrier opened with only minutes to spare before the train set out on it's journey north. Students were running from all directions onto the scarlet engine. Harry Potter, Ron and Ginny Weasley, and Hermione Granger came jogging through the barrier out of breath. They were followed closely by a flurry of people, most of whom were sporting the trademark flaming Weasley hair and second-hand robes. The troublesome twins, Fred and George, were included in this equation, which, in Draco's opinion, greatly lowered the total IQ of the whole meagerly-clad bunch. He watched bemusedly as Potter checked his watch and hollered something to his friends who crowded around him.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco was pleased to see that they all wore very serious expressions and stood huddled together, Harry in the middle, while the quartet of Gryffindors spoke their grave goodbyes to the group of wizards that had followed them in. He smirked noting how they looked over their shoulders every so often, but they had no idea just how much danger they were in.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Lord Voldemort would get his hands on that scar-headed, stupid, feel-sorry-for-me-because-the-Dark-Lord-has-returned-and-wants-me-dead, four-eyed prick. Draco was going to personally see to it that Potter paid for landing his once highly-respected father in Azkaban, and for bringing shame on the Malfoy name. A surge of white hot anger coursed through him, but he quickly stifled it. The time would come when Potter would suffer for his crimes and it would all be worthwhile. When the whistle blew, Potter, Granger, and the youngest two of the Weasley litter ran to the Hogwarts Express, their luggage trailing along behind them.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The compartment door slid open and Crabbe and Goyle thundered in, just as the engine roared to life and the train began its journey.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hey Draco," said Crabbe plopping down next to him. Draco mumbled a greeting to his companions.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Just got finished showing a few Second Year runts who's boss around this place," Goyle grunted seating himself across from Draco. He looked rather self-satisfied.  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
A loud knock sounded on the door. "This compartment is full," Draco drawled. The knock sounded again, a little sharper than the one that preceded it. Draco sighed loudly in annoyance and pulled himself out of his seat to answer the door.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"What do you wan-- hello Professor." Professor McGonagall stood outside his compartment door looking extremely cross. Her lips were set in a very, very thin line and her eyes were narrowed behind her square spectacles.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, correct me if I'm wrong but did I not state clearly in your Hogwarts letter that all Sixth Year Prefects are to report to the Prefect compartment for a brief conference?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Sorry, professor," he said quietly following her as she swept down the train's corridor to the Prefect compartment.  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco put on his best "I'm a good little rule-abiding Prefect" face and stayed in close step behind his Transfiguration teacher. While he stayed silent, inwardly Draco was cursing the bothersome professor. Why did she always have to favor the Gryffindors and treat Slytherin as if they were absolute scum? The truth of the matter was, Draco would have had his father pull some strings a while ago and get McGonagall fired right from the off, had it not been for Professor Snape showing the same bias for his own House. Speaking of which, if Professor McGonagall was on the train, shouldn't Professor Snape be as well? And come to that, why _was_ McGonagall on the train in the first place?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Before Draco had a chance to inquire about her presence, however, McGonagall reached out and slid back the door to a compartment, revealing the rest of the school Prefects and the new Head Boy and Girl. Everyone looked upon up their arrival. Some, the Slytherins, nodded to Draco as a sign of greeting, while others, like Granger and Weasley who were standing together looking particularly impatient- as if they had anything better to do- glared at him, looks which Draco returned full force. Speaking of Weasley scum, Draco noted that this year, there was not one, but two fiery-haired atrocities contaminating the prestigious compartment with their poverty. Maybe the little Weasel girl was not as daft as she looked, but, judging by her dirt-nosed, dilapidated appearance, Draco did not suppose this was such a difficult feat.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Now that we are all here," McGonagall began crisply, shooting an almost accusatory glance at Draco before continuing, "I have a few announcements to make as Deputy Headmistress. Professor Dumbledore thought it best that a few teachers remain on the train with the rising threat of Lord Voldemort hanging over… " McGonagall scowled as a collective gasp ran through the compartment. The Slytherins were looking exceptionally smug. "...therefore I will be introducing this year's new prefects and Head Boy and Girl."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She pulled out a scroll and unfurled it. "For Gryffindor," she read deferentially. "Ginny Weasley and Willam Figglesworth. For Hufflepuff, Elizabeth Cantera and Nicolas Whitby. For Ravenclaw, Luna Lovegood and Jack Sadler. And for Slytherin, Dominique Tripp and Warner Kensington. As for our Head Boy and Girl, Isabelle Clearwater from Ravenclaw and Darian Meisser from Slytherin." Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll, and tapping it once with her wand, it disappeared with a small 'poof'.   
  
  
  
  
  
One boy, a Hufflepuff who's name Draco neither knew nor cared, raised his hand. McGonagall turned to him, "Yes?"  
  
  
  
  
The boy's voice was curious, "Why did you make the list disappear, Professor? Are Prefects secret this year? Should we not wear our badges?"   
  
  
  
  
  
"No, Mr. Tripper, Prefects are not secret this year. However, I'm glad you brought that point up." She then turned and addressed the rest of the compartment. "As a necessary precaution, this year all important documents containing any information that we may not want falling into," she paused, and Draco could have sworn her eyes stopped on him for a second before resuming her speech, "the wrong hands, will be destroyed once they are no longer useful. This and other preventative measures will be taken in order to keep Hogwarts as safe as it has always been."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Ginny Weasley spoke up. "But, with Professor Dumbledore back, is that really necessary? I mean, I don't want to put an invisibility charm on my homework just in case it's intercepted."  
  
  
  
  
  
A few kids laughed, Draco just scowled, and McGonagall looked at the out-spoken Gryffindor rather sternly. "Well, Miss Weasley, as important as education is, your homework is hardly the kind of document I was speaking of. And, yes, even with Headmaster Dumbledore back--"  
  
  
  
  
  
"What ever happened to that old bag Umbridge anyway?" Professor McGonagall turned to Ernie MacMillan who had interrupted her, clearly perturbed.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Ms. Umbridge," her nostrils flared as she spoke the name, "is currently--"  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yeah, and what about the students who were in league with her against Dumbledore? Her 'Inquisitorial Squad' or whatever they called themselves." It was the Weasel who had obtruded on the Professor's statement this time. "Shouldn't there be some sort of," the red-haired mongrel glared pointedly at Draco as he spoke the last word, "punishment?"  
  
  
  
  
"Please refrain from interrupting me, Mr. Weasley. Now to answer your question--"  
  
  
  
  
But Draco had a question of his own. "Or, _Professor_, what about the students involved in the illegal organization that was the cause of our Headmaster's departure in the first place? Shouldn't _they_ be the ones to receive," Draco looked at Ron, saying more with his silver glare than he dared to aloud in front of a teacher, "punishment?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Well since--"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"And, if I remember correctly, Professor McGonagall," the Weasel cut-in again, not even bothering to look at the teacher he addressed, but instead shooting daggers at Draco, "it was the Inquisitorial Squad that caught the members of said 'illegal organization' and brought them to Umbridge, which then resulted in the departure of our Headmaster. Shouldn't _that _call for some," his eyes were now narrow slits, opened only wide enough to look at the arrogant blonde standing by the door in what he seemed to think was a threatening manner, "punishment?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco didn't even give McGonagall time to get in one word before he retaliated, sneering at the poorly-bred boy before him, whose ears were now as red as his hair in his anger, "Considering the fact that--" But Draco never got a chance to finish his quick-witted comeback, for the Weasel spoke once more.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Or, Professor McGonagall, perhaps the fact that _some," _his look of malice toward Draco was now one of pure loathing as the compartment door slid open and shut quietly, "members of the Inquisitorial Squad's parents are dirty stinking Death Eaters rotting in a cell in Azkaban, and their children are well on their way down the same path, this calls for some," the freckle-faced snot-nosed hand-me-down-robed Weasley snarled, "punishment?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco could barely remember being this angry in his entire life, but he dared not to show it. One would only know the extent of his rage if they looked into his eyes. His gray eyes emanated an icy fury directed vehemently at the fiery red-head. Their two personalities and glares clashed as violently as the elements which represented them. Malfoy against Weasley. Impertinence against petulance. Ice against fire.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco didn't shout, but his voice was low, unnervingly cool, and bore evidence to only one emotion; pure, cold hatred. "Or possibly, Professor, _some_ of the members of the aforementioned organization would not have need join at all, if it weren't for their," Draco paused conspicuously and looked the furious Weasley up and down appraisingly, then with a quick sneer and a flare of his nostrils, as if dismissing something unwanted and disgusting, returned to his speech, "less than standard upbringing. If I am to understand, they were a group which met to review more practical uses of Defense Against the Dark Arts, skills that one with _proper_ background would have long since mastered. Surely, those dull-witted students whom are the bi-products of such ill-breeding, should, for the sole reason that their families are worthless, impoverished filth, be subject to some long-overdue but well-deserved," he raised his eyebrows as he spat the last word, "punishment?"  
  
  
  
  
  
The tension in the compartment reached a boiling point as Ron made a lunge for the aloof blonde leaning arrogantly against the wall. Pansy Parkinson let out a shriek of laughter as Hermione and Ginny grabbed both of Ron's freckled arms and pulled him back so forcefully that he fell backwards and lost his balance.

  
  
  
  
  
The Slytherins in the compartment erupted with laughter as a thoroughly humiliated and still quite furious Ron got to his feet, stubbornly refusing the hands offered to him by the two girls that had accidentally knocked him down in the first place.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Mr. Weasley!" Professor McGonagall screeched her voice sounding oddly like a hissing grate. "I am appalled at your behavior! As a Prefect and a sixth-year you should know to never ever openly attack another student! As for you Mr. Malfoy, your comments were completely out of place and quite frankly I don't blame Mr. Weasley for attempted onslaught! Both of you will receive a detention! And I trust that the other prefects and Heads of Houses in this compartment will not say a word to the rest of the student body about how two of your fellow prefects do not know how to contain themselves from childish quarrels!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Professor McGonagall, if I may," a cool voice intercepted. Many people in the compartment jumped at the sound of Snape's voice; they had not been aware of his arrival, as they were distracted by Draco and Ron's heated argument. "From what I saw, which is, I'm sure, enough to pass fair judgment, Mr. Malfoy was only making a harmless suggestion, and in doing so did not target any one particular student. His words certainly did not provoke Mr. Weasley's sudden burst of violence and I saw no hostility in Mr. Malfoy's actions to warrant Weasley's ill-conceived attempt to cause harm to his fellow classmate. Therefore, and as he is in my House I am quite in the right to say, I see no reason why Mr. Malfoy should get a detention, unless speaking one's mind is yet another precautionary rule the school has enforced that of which I have, as of yet, been uninformed. I have been fifteen years in service to this school, and I think I can recognize when a student is deserving or undeserving of," the Potions Master's coal black eyes rested menacingly on Ron, "punishment."   
  
  
  
  
  
Professor McGonagall's lips thinned sternly as she looked upon her colleague. "I suppose that is for you to decide, Severus. But I know when a student is deserving or undeserving of punishment also, and Mr. Weasley you'll forgive me, if I don't let you off the hook." She turned to address the multitude of Prefects that had been watching interestedly. "A Prefect's duty is a very serious one, and I hope you are all taking extra precautions in setting better examples for your younger, more impressionable classmates then the display I have seen here today. Your first prefect meeting will take place in the Prefect's Lounge at seven o'clock sharp tomorrow after dinner. I expect to see you all there. You may go back to your compartments now." Professor McGonagall turned sharply and exited the compartment followed closely by Snape.  
  


  
  
Twenty-four students shuffled out of the magically magnified compartment, a few looked quite disappointed that the show was over. Draco walked behind two fuming Weasley's and a silent Granger making a mental note of where their compartment was before sauntering off to his own to pick up his cronies for a little meeting of his own.

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Okay, we're done!! *wipes brow* Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, and for a change please review! Teehee, just because I changed the chapter three times, doesn't mean I'm going to mess with the corny A/N at the bottom! lol!  



	2. Two: A Death Eater's Justice

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Author's Note: Thanks for reviewing! Your input is always very appreciated! I just thought I would add this fair warning that there is a Draco and Hermione romance (as if you didn't get it from the summery lol) but it will be a gradual one, because five years of hating someone is not easily forgotten, and if you aren't a patient reader and want Draco and Hermione to instantly fall in love, then I recommend skipping to the last two chapters, though you might miss all of the plot. But if you are into realism (even though the prospect of a Draco and Hermione romance is completely ludicrous in the first place! lol!) then you might like this one!

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Pairing: Draco/Hermione--of course

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Rating: R--language, later violence and sexual content

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Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16 year old girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

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Summery: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

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Shadows of Light

  
**Chapter Two  
  
**  
  
Draco thought that even if he didn't know which compartment harbored the most destitute scum of the wizarding world, he would have found it easily, judging by the flamboyant tirade that radiated from the closed sliding door. He was sure that nearly half of the train could hear Ron Weasley's furious yells of _favoritism _and _Ferret-faced twit_.

  
Draco turned, smirking, to the closed compartment in which his carrot topped foe was still screaming about the unfairness of the universe. Taking this opportunity, Draco pushed the compartment door ajar. The door creaked slightly when Draco slid it open, however it was silenced instantly by Weasley's voice, now magnified without the thick compartment door stifling most of the sound. A few people poked their heads out of their compartments in curiosity, mostly Prefects eager to see another fight between the opposite elemental opponents. Potter and Granger sat in the same seat staring at their scarlet-faced friend, while the youngest of the Weasel clan had seated herself across from them.

  
  
"--and what's more! That blistering bleached twit got off! I swear Snape is one of the most bigoted… " Hermione's small shriek stopped the fuming Weasel in mid-sentence. Ron, who had been standing with his back to the door, turned sharply to face the direction in which Hermione was staring open-mouthed.

  
"The most bigoted what, Weasley? I'm sure he'd be interested to hear… "

  
"If you know what's good for you Malfoy, you'll steer your sneering Ferret face out of our compartment before I bloody you up!" Ron hollered his face reddening rapidly. Draco's anger began to escalate again upon the Weasel's second intrusion on his retort, but he refused to let them see just how much his fire-haired adversary had infuriated him. He would control his anger, for now.

  
Irritatingly enough, Malfoy only sneered at this suggestion turning his eyes to rest irately on the fuming Weasel. "Ready to fight me, are you?" he smirked, reaching slowly for his own wand that rested in his expensive black wizard's robes. "I wouldn't advise it Weasley; you wouldn't want me to embarrass you in front of your friends, and we don't need you bringing any _more_ shame on your family's name, now, do we?"

Harry glared at Malfoy. "Ron isn't the son of a filthy stinking Death Eater rotting in Azkaban, Malfoy. I'd say that's a pretty hypocritical comment, wouldn't you?"

The blood coursing through Draco's body surged as a fresh rush of adrenaline mounted his anger. His face grew red. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles threateningly. Draco gave no forewarning of his attack, except straitening up to his full six-foot height, his silver eyes glaring at the offending messy-haired, four-eyed, back-stabbing mongrel himself

  
Blind fury dictated his movements. Draco was moving towards Potter, who had raised himself from his seat. A heavy blow fell into his torso causing him to stagger slightly from its intensity. Reacting with reflexes born of a seeker, he turned to the Weasel in question and landed a punch to the side of his freckled face. Neither Hermione nor Ginny made any movements to stop the fight, finding it difficult enough to restrain themselves from losing all dignity and joining in.

With no such dilemma as gender holding him back, Harry jumped in the fight that he would normally be trying to prevent. But his anger was pounding furiously in his ears drowning out his meager voice of logic and his fists seemed to be propelled by something other than his physical strength.

  
  
Malfoy felt Potter's fists pummeling his stomach, pushing him forcibly into the hard wall. Crabbe and Goyle were too busy with Weasley, who was struggling like an angered bear to get his freckled hands back on Draco's throat, to see their master's situation. Draco let out a low growl and struck out at Potter. Surprised by the sudden clout to the side of his face, Harry stopped his assault on the blonde-haired Slytherin to clutch his throbbing cheek. This proved to be a mistake as Draco's fist came down hard in his taut stomach. Ron broke free of Crabbe's and Goyle's flailing fists to come to his best mate's aid. He threw an uppercut into Malfoy's jaw efficiently wiping the satisfied smirk of his pale face.

Suddenly Hermione was there pulling Ron off of Draco, casting a worried look his way. Ron struggled violently, but Hermione refused to let him go. It seemed she was much stronger than she appeared to be. Ginny was helping Harry to his feet, her face flaming with unshed anger.

  
  
Harry was breathing heavily, a black and blue bruise blooming on his jaw line. He was leaning heavily on the Weaselette's small frame, as she struggled to keep him standing. "Get out," he spat, his words laced with a hatred Draco never knew the hero was capable of.  
  
  
  
Malfoy ran his tongue over his split lip, welcoming the metallic taste of blood. Crabbe and Goyle stood by the window awkwardly, glancing at him for instructions. "You wait Potter, you just wait; this isn't over." His voice was low and menacing but Harry kept his stolid look of loathing directed towards his platinum enemy. "Come on." His cronies lumbered after him and with one last malicious look at the foursome, Malfoy slammed the door shut in their flushed faces.

Malfoy muttered a quick spell pointing his wand at himself. He was rewarded by the feeling of aches and bruises healing rapidly. The pain he would never admit to as a result of the fight eased and he ran a pink tongue over his lip, which was no longer split.  
  
  
  
The rest of the train ride passed in an uneventful haze for Draco Malfoy with no other violent encounters to speak of with Potter or his ever-present sidekick. Almost directly after they got back into the compartment, the witch who pushed the trolley knocked on the door. Malfoy pulled out a couple of Galleons, and gave them to Crabbe and Goyle. Their piggy eyes lit up when they saw the massive amounts of food they could get with the money Draco had supplied. Not long after, the compartment door had slid shut once again and a seat was completely covered in Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizbees and any other wizard candy imaginable. Crabbe and Goyle weren't much for talking when there was food around. Come to think of it, they weren't much for talking when there wasn't food around either, but Malfoy decided he liked them better when there was food.

  
This left Draco to do nothing but stare out the window at the passing countryside. He grinned smugly to himself when the thought of the upcoming school-year came to mind. He hadn't been lying when he said that Potter hadn't won. Once the plan was put into action, Potter would be begging for mercy. If all went well, he would have a very high position in the Dark Lord's court, very high indeed!  
  
  
  
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It was dark outside when the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station in Hogsmeade. Draco stepped out into the cool night air, feeling the refreshing breeze on his face. He looked up at the gleaming stars beginning to form in the dark blue sky. It was one of the few things he enjoyed… the stars… shining proud against the inky blackness of the night sky, so high above everything else… not unlike himself.  


  
Suddenly, a loud booming voice jerked Draco out of his reverie. "Firs` years! Firs` years over here! C'mon, follow me--any more firs` years? Firs` years follow me!" Draco felt himself being shoved to the side as the massive form of Hagrid and a crowd of timid first years pushed through to get to the lake. He cursed to himself.

  
  
Behind Draco's back, Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly, the elements of a plan forming in their tiny brains. Draco watched nonchalantly as Goyle stuck out his foot in the midst of the hurrying throng. After that, it seemed as if everything happened in slow motion. 

  
A boy tripped on the tree trunk that was Goyle's thick leg. He fell down, pulling a mousy-haired girl with him. The girl screamed as she fell and three students stopped dead in their tracks behind the fallen pair, causing the people behind them to bump into each other and lose their balance. Not long after, the assembly that was once the First Year Class turned into a large mass of tangled arms and legs.

  
  
An almighty roar pierced the humid night air as Hagrid turned his great hairy head to witness the stumbling multitude. His beetle black eyes looked around in anger. "Who's responsible for this?" he demanded probing the masses. Crabbe and Goyle sauntered away before Hagrid's eyes turned on them, Draco leading the way. All three of them were shaking in boorish laughter when they reached the thestral-driven carriages. When the carriage set off with its three inhabitants, Draco gave way to the mirth engulfing him from inside.

  
  
The enchanted ceiling was littered with bright stars above the four long parallel tables. Draco seated himself at the Slytherin Table majestically, as if there were no other table in the colossal room worth being graced with his presence. His lazy gaze traveled slowly over the three remaining House's gathered at their long tables, then stopped to rest on the Gryffindor's. They would get hurt the worst when Potter was killed at the hand of Lord Voldemort. How little they knew, chatting and laughing carelessly, unaware of Draco's steely gaze upon them. Then they would learn, all of them, that _no one_ fucked with a Malfoy. He tore his glare away from the sickening house table to rest upon his own.  
  
  
  
Most Slytherins spoke in urgent secretive whispers or not at all. Others sulked in moody confinement. Draco's concentration turned to the two bulky figures sitting on his left. They were still laughing idiotically about tripping those stupid First Years.

  
And speaking of First Years… Professor McGonagall strode into the hall a long line of anxious looking students trailing after her. Every pair of eyes now rested on the patched hat that sat on a three legged stool in the middle of the floor. A familiar rip tore at the seam and the mouth opened extensively. The Sorting Hat began to sing almost dutifully in it's slow out-of-key voice:

  
_I see you've made it to Hogwarts,  
  
A profitable task in itself.  
  
And it is my job to assign you a house  
  
Before I'm placed back on the shelf.  
  
There is not a head in this hall,  
  
On which the Sorting Hat hasn't been tried.  
  
It is my duty after all,  
  
To search into the delves of your minds.  
  
You might be best-fitted for Gryffindor,  
  
A heroic and courageous lot.  
  
They pride themselves in many ways,  
  
On brave victories in battles fought.  
  
Or perhaps you belong in Hufflepuff,  
  
Where the good and faithful reside.  
  
In times of trouble, they always know,  
  
Which is the fairest side.  
  
You could fit in with Ravenclaw,  
  
If you possess an intelligent mind.  
  
Where use of their keen intellect,  
  
Solves puzzles of any kind.  
  
Or yet in cunning Slytherin,  
  
Where those of slyness laze.  
  
They will not cease fighting for their cause,  
  
Until they meet their graves.  
  
So, I invite you to step up to the stool,  
  
And place me atop your head.  
  
I'll sort you correctly, I promise you this,  
  
So relax, you've nothing to dread.  
_  
  
  
After the song ended, and the tumultuous applause coming from mainly the other three houses had faded, Professor McGonagall turned to the procession of First Years and spoke in a loud audible voice. "When I call your name, you will place the Sorting Hat on your head and be sorted into your houses." This said, she pulled out a long scroll and began to read the names.

  
Draco watched in a reticent daze as the numerous students were sorted. He did, however, pay close attention to the students that entered Slytherin.

"Abercrombie, Evin" was the first student to be sorted. He stumbled to the sorting hat and put it on his head with trembling fingers. "GRYFFINDOR!" He stood up and joined his brother at the rambunctious Gryffindor table.

  
Next was that mousy looking girl that had been tripped by Goyle. She, unsurprisingly, went to Hufflepuff. Draco reflected that if he had been sorted into Hufflepuff, he would have left, not that that would have ever happened. Definitely not to a Malfoy who were known to be elevated Slytherins.

  
Draco didn't pay attention much to the rest of the ceremony, except to yet another Creevy, this time a girl who was sorted into Gryffindor. She seemed to be just as taken with Potter as her siblings were. Draco's eyes rested on the youngest Weasley. She was sitting next to Dean Thomas and he had his arm around her. A fresh wave of nausea hit Draco.

The last to be sorted, Zabini Aiden, sauntered proudly towards the Slytherin table and took a seat beside Blaise. He wore a contented smirk, and Draco thought he was someone he could get along with, as long as he knew his place.

  
He gave a quick critique of the new Slytherins. From what he could tell by their surnames, most of their parents were servants of the Dark Lord, although not as highly ranked as the likes of his father, and soon enough, himself. The Malfoy name still commanded a certain respect in the house of Slytherin even though Lucius Malfoy had been imprisoned by Harry Potter.

  
Dumbledore stood up wearing a sincere smile as he looked upon his students. He spoke a few well-chosen words then took his seat. The tables magically filled with mouth-watering cuisine. There was an audible gasp from many First Year students. Draco noted amusedly that none of the Slytherin First Years looked very impressed. _Good_, he thought to himself, filling his plate up with large portions of roast beef, pork chops, sausages, bacon, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, and a few peppermint humbugs, which he happened to like. He took a swig from his goblet and set to work on his meal.  


  
The night finished in a dull blur for Draco Malfoy. The feast ended and he led the mass of Slytherin First Years to the Slytherin common room along with Pansy, spoke the new password: _vela cadunt_ , and settled himself down in front of the weak fire while everyone else, including Crabbe and Goyle, retired to their chambers.

The cold fire that flickered morosely in the aristocratic hearth lit the high stone walls with its weak iridescent light. Draco stared at the flames licking the cool stones. His gray eyes transfixed on the restless blaze, which reminded himself of the anger that simmered just as restlessly beneath his own cool surface. Finally, he stood up and padded up to his dormitory. His roommates all asleep, judging by the loud snores protruding from under Crabbe and Goyle's divans, Draco climbed into his lavish four-poster and pulled the green and silver covers up over his muscular body. Soon enough things would begin to revolutionize and he finally satisfy this gnawing urge to avenge the injustice done to his father and the Malfoy name, he mused tensely, before slipping under the cover of sleep.  
  
  
  
~*~ Now chapters one and two coincide! Yay! I know the story doesn't seem to be taking on much of a plot right now, but, trust me, I have plans for this story, I promise the plot will become more clear in the chapters to come. Please review, it ensures that you like what you read and that I should continue. Thanks! O, and don't worry about chapter three, if it doesn't quite tie in with one and two, it's because I haven't revised it yet. But it shall!


	3. Three: Illuminating Darkness

Author's Note: I just have one thing to say; Yes, Fiery, I did make up the Sorting Hat Song, with a little help from Lyssa--she works miracles! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Okay, I really had to change this chapter because if you remember in OotP, a lot of students aren't going to be in Potions because they didn't get the Potions O.W.L.S. There might be a quite a few significant changes, but no harm shall be done to my beautiful plot strokes plot and says in low disturbing voice: "My preciousssss"

**Pairings:** Draco and Hermione

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

**Disclaimer:** If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16-year-old American girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot. ****

Shadows of Light  
  
**Chapter Three**

It was drafty in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The Gryffindors took their usual seats and waited for the professor to arrive. There was a bit of speculation as to who might have taken the job, as the students had yet to see the new professor. Whoever had taken the job was not at the Welcoming Feast, nor had any new teacher been seen in the halls. Sixth year Gryffindors would be the first students to actually meet the new professor.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in the front of the classroom. "I wonder why they're keeping this all so hushed up," Ron muttered.

Harry looked around to making certain no one else was listening in. "I know why," he whispered. Ron and Hermione had to lean in to catch his words. "It's someone from the order." Hermione shifted uneasily in her seat before speaking in the same hushed whisper as Harry.

"You don't think…"

A loud _slam _alerted the class to the doorway where a large and quite sullen group of Slytherins stood. There was an ominous silence as the rival houses glared at each other. It was a rather unpleasant experience seeing one's adversaries outside of necessity.

"What are the Slytherins doing here?" Seamus Finnigan demanded loudly.

"Haven't you any brains in that thick skull of yours?" Pansy Parkinson demanded in her shrill voice. "We're here for Defense Against the Dark Arts class." As she spoke, the green-crested students began to take seats as far away from their Gryffindor opponents as they possibly could in the small, stone classroom.

"But Slytherins!" Ron spat furiously, gesturing around him.

"Congratulations Weasley, you've finally mastered stating the obvious," a drawling voice retorted. The Slytherins howled in laughter.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, only to be cut off by a loud, ringing voice.

"Hello, class! I'll be your new Defense Against the Dark Arrrrrgh!" The new professor was a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length brown hair, and a knack, it seemed, for making accidents. In this instant she had tripped over a student's bag and fallen unceremoniously to the floor. For a moment, her hair turned a fiery red as she pulled herself up mumbling curses, before it turned back to the ordinary brown it was before. "I'll be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," she announced breathlessly, smiling nervously at the class in front of her. "Does anyone have any questions, so far?"

"I have a question," Draco Malfoy drawled loudly from the back of the classroom. "Do you have a name?" A few Slytherins could be heard sniggering.

The flustered teacher turned her gaze to Malfoy. "Yes, of course I have a name," she replied fretfully. "You may call me Professor…" She looked around the room, her wiry glasses askew on her face, until her eyes rested on a bright red apple on her desk. "Apple. Umm, my name is Professor Apple." She looked around the classroom for a moment taking in the student's faces.

Professor Apple pulled out a long scroll and began to take role. She gave Harry, Ron, and Hermione a secret smile when she called out their names on the roll. Draco watched his new teacher in unmasked suspicion. Something was up.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why I have combined your houses into one class." For a moment, there was silence, before the class exploded in protests.

"Why would anyone..."

"With Slytherins!"

"See too much of those brainless Gryffindors!"

"Who do you think you are?"

"With Slytherins!"

"Who are you calling brainless?"

"Is this some sort of a sick joke?"

"I'll knock your fucking teeth out!"

"Language, Weasley."

"You can't put us with Slytherins!"

"You can't put us with Gryffindors!"

"SHUT UP!!!" The entire class froze in mid-action. Ron had Malfoy by the cuff of his robes. Malfoy's hands were around Ron's neck, and Ron's face was as red as his hair. Pansy Parkinson had grabbed Hermione by her long bushy hair. Neville was suspended upside down, each leg held up by a sniggering Crabbe and Goyle. Everyone turned to look at Harry in shock. "If Professor Apple says she has a good reason for lobbing us together, than maybe we should listen to what she has to say!"

Professor Apple looked quite abashed. "Well!" she huffed indignantly. "If you're all quite finished!" Crabbe and Goyle dropped Neville's feet, who toppled ungracefully to the floor. Hermione pulled her hair out of Pansy's grasp and Ron and Draco pushed each other away with a sort of macho force.

Professor Apple smiled at the class once more, and continued. "I think you all know that the Defense Against the Dark Arts job is becoming harder to fill each year; some say it's jinxed. I work in the Ministry of Magic and took this job as a favor to Dumbledore, but I have other duties in the ministry. I can only teach two classes, that's why you are bunched together, so please _try _to act civilized. Now, turn in your book to chapter 27, we're going to go over defense against hexes."

When the bell rang, the students shoved their books in their bags and headed for the door in one mass movement. It took Draco about five minutes to realize he had forgotten his book, and about ten minutes to turn around and push his way back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom in the large horde of students. Draco slipped in quietly amongst the loud chatter of the students in the hall. He had reached his desk, grabbed his book, and was heading out when he heard different voices talking. It took him only a moment to realize that these were the voices of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the new professor.

"…order…"

Draco ducked down suddenly, as if he were afraid of being seen, then crouched and walked silently, back hunched, towards the sounds of the voices. They were coming from the professor's office above the stairs, floating just into earshot.

"Well, I can't really say what that is," replied Professor Apple.

"Tonks, why is there a map of my neighborhood on your desk?" asked Hermione.

"Umm, that's top secret order business," the professor, whose real name, Draco assumed, was Tonks, replied.

"But that's my parent's house!" Hermione sounded defensive.

"Hermione, do you really think they would do something to harm your family?" Harry's voice was consoling, and a small sigh sounded from Hermione.

"I suppose you're right."

"Is that what you do every night, Tonks, put spells around people's houses and stuff?" Ron's voice sounded excited.

"Listen, Ron, maybe it's better if we don't know," Harry's voice remonstrated.

Draco began to feel a tickle under his nose. The voices continued, oblivious to Draco's presence.

"Harry, suppose, well, suppose Lord…_Voldemort_… were to come to my house and kill my parents, I would want to know that someone was trying to protect them. You of all people should understand _that_."Hermione's voice sounded almost choked.

"Come here, don't worry, I'm sure the order will protect you." Ron's voice was a bit muffled as if he had pulled Hermione into a hug.

Draco's nose began to twinge torturously, but he needed to hear more. "I didn't mean it like that Hermione," Harry whispered.

"I want it understood," began Tonks, but she didn't have a chance to finish her sentence because the sound of a half muffled sneeze had broken the still silence.

Draco did not wait for someone to come down and find him; he bolted to the door, his bag swinging precariously around him. Harry was halfway down the stairs when the door to the classroom swung shut.

The cold Common Room was empty when Draco entered it after Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, as everyone else was at lunch, or pondering the mysterious activities of the new teacher. He gazed around looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming before he sank down on the black leather sofa in front of the glowing fire, stretching his legs out luxuriously. What valuable information, Draco had encountered. So there was a secret organization, and this new teacher was a member. He thought for a moment, he had very vital facts that the Dark Lord would want, maybe he could use this to his advantage. His mother might be interested to hear. Speaking of which, he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a slightly wrinkled letter. He gave one last look around the room to make sure that there was still no one there, before he opened the thick envelope and pulled out the parchment inside.

_Draco,_

Do not forget your task for today's Quidditch practice. You must be discreet; until your father escapes and clears his charge, I'm afraid the Malfoy name is tarnished. You must give no one reason to suspect you. I would also remind you of the bovioria that resides in your trunk; it may be of assistance to you in this act.

Destroy this once you have read it.

Narcissa   
  
Draco crumpled the letter in one hand feeling the thick parchment folding painfully into the shape of his fist; all thoughts of the order seemed to have escaped his mind as he dwelled on the incompetent tone of the letter. His mother treated him as if he were a bungling child. He was 16 years old; he knew how to carry out a plan. Draco felt a rush of fury towards Potter, if he hadn't meddled in the Dark Lord's affairs, Lucius would still be free. Draco threw the crumpled parchment into the fire, where it ignited at once. There were times when Draco disliked his father, as all teenagers do, but Lucius had trained him to be the outstanding Malfoy he was today, and no scar-faced Halfblood was going to take that away from him.

The entrance to the common room slid open. Draco lifted his head to look at the newcomer. It was Adrian Pucey, the new Quidditch captain for the Slytherin team. He glanced around and spotted Draco lounging on the couch.

"We have practice in an hour, Draco," he said making his way to the 7th year boy's dormitories. "I suggest you get ready," he called over his shoulder.

Draco groaned as he pulled himself off the comfortable sofa and trudged up to his own 6th year dormitory. He changed into his green, and silver, Quidditch robes, flung his Nimbus 2001 over his shoulder and made his way down to the pitch.

The sun was beginning to sink over the treetops, but Draco didn't mind. They usually practiced at night. That way, it was harder for any prying eyes to see their tactics. The pitch was empty; this was due to the fact that Draco was considerably early. Practice didn't start for another half an hour. Draco strolled over to Madame Hooch's Office, which was underneath the teacher's stands. This small room, next to the stairway leading up into the bleachers, was where the school brooms and other Quidditch equipment was kept.

Draco pulled his wand out from his cloak and muttered "_Alohomora."_ The door swung open and he stepped in and had a look around. There were two basic sets of Quidditch balls, one for the actual game and the other for practice. However, the walls were lined with boxes of spares. He strode over to the place where the game balls were kept and whipped out his wand.

"_Alohomora_," he muttered once more. Nothing happened. There were obviously pretty strong spells protecting the Quidditch Balls. Draco realized this made sense. They wouldn't want just anyone with a First Year level education being able to just walk in and tamper with the balls. Luckily, Draco had a lot more than just a First Year's education. In fact, he had more than a 7th year's, owing to his family... situation.   
  
He pointed his wand once again at the box and whispered "_Arcae_ _Apertum_," hearing the satisfying click of the lock, he opened the crate. The two bludgers thrashed around wildly as if just they had just been awoken and were angry for it. Draco pointed his wand and muttered a spell under his breath before slamming the lid down and magically locking the wooden crate.

Swiftly and silently, he made for the door, making sure nothing was out of place, and with one last satisfied glance, he swung the door shut. And not a moment to soon, Draco could just make out Pucey's figure striding down the lawns. Draco quickly ducked out of sight and waited for Pucey to open the door to retrieve the supplies needed for practice. The deed had been done. . .

**Okay, now chapters one, two, and three match grabs chapter four and begins revisions Please review guys!**


	4. Four: Coresponding Altercations

Author's Note: I hope you guys have kept up your patience with me throughout this story, with the revisions and all. I've been having a hard time with work especially because I'm getting hard hours and they've become a lot stricter so I get in trouble for random little things that aren't my fault. This story, is one of the only things keeping me sane, now that my computer is working again, I can put in all of the revisions and new chapters that I have written. The more you guys review, the better you make me feel.

Pairings: Draco and Hermione

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16-year-old American girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

****

Shadows of Light

  
  
**Chapter Four **

Bright flames licked the cold hearth. Draco could just barely see the ashy remnants of his mother's letter from the previous night. The day after the practice had passed relatively quickly and uneventfully, owing to the fact that Draco had no classes with those irksome Gryffindors.

Draco glared at the hissing grate, mentally going over his schedule for the next day. He had History of Magic first thing in the morning. _Good I can catch up on my sleep_. After that, he had Charms, then lunch, and then… Advanced Potions. He sneered to himself; there were only two remaining Gryffindors. Potter had managed somehow to pass the OWL's; perhaps his remedial potions had actually paid off. Granger had also stayed in that class, probably to keep Potter sane. It was rather comical watching Snape always narrow down on the two, making them do extra work, and taking off house points. Draco had come to rather enjoy that class.

"Potter!" Professor Snape shouted as he rushed over, ebony robes billowing behind him. "What have you done _now_? I _clearly_ stated that the antidote for the Cyanteler potion requires only four drops of Armadillo bile, and you seem to have used the entire vial! Can't you pay attention for once in your life? When you are cleaning out your ears and you feel resistance, stop!"

As the bubbling yellow (it was supposed to be purple) liquid spilled over the brim of the pewter cauldron and dripped onto the table, causing the wood to smoke and simply disintegrate before their eyes, Harry tried to redeem himself, struggling under Snape's hard glare.

"Pro-Professor Snape, I- It wasn't my- It was Malfoy! He-""  
  
"-is all the way across the room!" Snape finished for him. Draco sat back on his stool lazily from his corner, smirking at Potter's unfortunate situation. "Mr. Malfoy, I apologize for Potter's accusations."

"That's alright, Professor," Draco said, " I do hope that the proper punishment will be in order? This potion is now obviously ruined and could have potentially hurt someone."

"Of course," Snape sneered as he turned sharply toward Harry, "Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor for your damage to the school's property and your decimation of a perfectly good Potion!"

"But Professor Snape, I-"

"Enough!" Snape bellowed. Harry quickly closed his mouth, anger at the unfairness of it all keeping him quiet. "You will also serve a detention, and if I hear another word in protest, I won't hesitate to make it a week! Now, go and summon Mr. Filch. You will be helping him clean up this mess as your first detention."

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded sulkily as the bell rang and the students filed out of the classroom.

Draco simply smirked. This was too perfect. He was the one who had purposely knocked Harry's arm in passing causing him to pour the entire vial of Armadillo bile into the potion. He recalled earlier that day in Charms where he learned a new way to slick back his hair without having to use all of that Sleak-Eazy's hair solution, and now this. _This day just keeps getting better and better._ He picked up his bag and slung it lazily, but elegantly over his shoulder and strolled out of the Potions room as he headed for the Slytherin dormitories to drop off his bag before dinner. 

However, before he even made it around the corner, he was stopped by a figure with bushy auburn hair and an armful of books.

"Out of my way, Granger."

"No, Malfoy! I know it was you who ruined Harry's antidote!"

"Good for you." Draco drawled, "Now move aside." He tried to push passed her but she just wouldn't budge.

"No, that was a really rotten thing to do!"

"Granger, I don't have time for this. Just because your little boyfriend can't go one hour of potions without destroying a piece of furniture-"

"Harry is not my boyfriend!"

"That's right, you're still sniffing after Weasley. I certainly hope you don't like him for his money, or his intelligence, or his looks for that matter."

"Ron isn't my boyfriend either, and he has more intelligence than you can ever hope to have!"  
  
Draco really was not in the mood for this now. "I'm sure he does in _your_ mind, now get out of my way, I places to be!"

"I won't! Not until you admit that it was you who destroyed the potion and go set things right!"

"Or, I could laugh in your face at the absurdity of that very suggestion and tell you to bugger off," Draco said sarcastically. Hermione opened her mouth to protest further, but Draco cut her off. "Why don't you go off and find the-boy-who-wouldn't-die and you two can run along and save the day. I have more important things to do than stand here and listen to you go on about the misfortune of that twit, poverty-stricken Weasley."

Hermione made a violent move towards Draco as if she were going to slap him and he waggled a finger in her face. "I don't think you would want Gryffindor to lose any _more_ points, now, would you?"

She backed off a bit, visibly fuming. Her look shot daggers at him as she shifted her books and stalked off angrily without another word. Draco just shrugged off the little encounter. He hadn't been lying when he said he had more important things to do. He had gone over the plan very carefully in his mind. It was all set up. It was basically flawless, and if all went well, he wouldn't have to worry about annoying little Mudbloods like Granger anymore, well… not in the long run at least… 

The corners of his mouth faintly creeping up in an evil smirk, the closest thing to a genuine smile that Draco ever wore, he walked of toward the common room, in exceptionally high spirits.

Well, that's the end of this chapter. I had a difficult time writing it thanks a million to Lyssa, my wonderful beta and inspiration, especially in this chapter Please review! It gives me the confidence to continue on with my story. Also, if anyone would like an email notification when I update please let me know and leave me your email address.

Now chapters 1-4 coincide! does happy dance


	5. Five:Magical Aneurysm

Author's Note: Thank you to tainted black, Katieshaz, Tabitha, Feiry-chan (of course), Dreaming One, Ernie, random pixie, Tandy, yana banana, Blanche Dubois, lafeemechante, Anonymous, fReD AnD GEoRGe WeASleY Are gOdS, Milk, Sparkling Roses, and LysaQuill (my lovely beta and seemingly co-author) for your wonderful reviews! I really appreciate your input.

Pairings: Draco and Hermione

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16-year-old American girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

****

Shadows of Light

  
  
**Chapter Five **

The bright sunlight blinded Draco as he stepped onto the pitch, leading the rest of the Slytherin team alongside their captain. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the blaring light and the effulgent glare gave way to color, he could hear a tumultuous applause protruding from the Slytherin stands and an equally outrageous chorus of boos and hisses from the Gryffindor end of the pitch. This was it, Draco reflected, as he mounted his broom on Madame Hooch's command, there was no turning back now…

The gleaming golden snitch was released, followed by bludgers, and the quaffle, and the whistle was blown, signifying the start of the match. Draco steadied his grip and ascended into the crisp, late-morning air.

He distanced himself from the game. Timing was of the essence. He sat back lazily and listened to that aggravating Gryffindor speaker's commentary. "Ginny Weasley, is in possession of the Quaffle. Crabbe beats a bludger furiously towards her-- An excellent save by one of the Gryffindor Beaters, Kirkle, leaving Ginny Weasley free to score with the Quaffle. Go Ginny! Yes! She scores, not bad for a rookie! Ten points to Gryffindor!" 

"Uh-oh, Slytherin captain Adrian Pucey has the Quaffle, he's heading towards the Gryffindor goal posts. Block it Weasley! OH! An excellent save by keeper Ron Weasley! And Gryffindor is back in possession of the Quaffle. NO! Slytherin has just taken the Quaffle from Natalie MacDonald! THAT'S NOT FAIR! ONLY THE BEATERS ARE ALLOWED TO HIT THE BLUDGERS! Nott should be disqualified! Yes, foul! Gryffindor Chaser Ginny Weasley, takes the Quaffle… IT'S IN! Gryffindor leads 20 to 0! And Slytherin is now in possession of the Quaffle"

Draco was jerked into sudden reality when, Potter, who was hovering on the other side of the pitch near the Gryffindor Goal posts, swooped down, heading towards the earth right in the center of the field. He must have seen the snitch. Draco leaned low on his broomstick and put on a burst of speed. He needed to reach the little golden ball before Potter did. He had to. 

As Draco sped downward, and became closer to where Harry was heading, he discerned that he couldn't see the snitch anywhere. He was just feet away from the ground when Draco realized his mistake. Potter pulled out of his dive in the nick of time. The audience, mainly Slytherins, squealed in horror as it appeared that their seeker was going to collide with the hard earth.

But Draco didn't crash. He realized what had happened just before he would have and was able to straighten his broom in time. He was so close that he could smell the dew on the grass. The Slytherins cheered and the rest of the audience sat back down, in disappointment. 

Wronski Feint, he should have known. That was a close one. Being thwarted by Potter would have destroyed the plan. Draco had to be extra cautious. He needed to find the snitch, the sooner, the better.

"Did you see that one folks? Gryffindor Seeker, Harry Potter, used the very difficult and dangerous tactic known as a Wronski Feint. Slytherin Seeker Draco Malfoy almost fell for it too."

It was irritating enough that Potter had unjustly been given his back his position after Professor Umbridge left, without the commentary of the bothersome and highly-biased announcer who sounded rather displeased about that last part. Draco just smirked as he circled above the other players, in search of the snitch, but being sure to keep one eye on Potter the whole time. All must go according to plan.

"And Pucey has the quaffle once again. He's weaving through the other players. Nice bludger hit by Sloper, just missed Pucey though. Hey- what was that!? Slytherin Chaser Warrington just rammed his elbow into Gryffindor Chaser Ginny Weasley who was attempting to steal the quaffle! That's cobbing! Foul! Excessive use of elbows! Yes! Madame Hooch blows her whistle and it's a foul, which Ginny Weasley puts away no problem. For a Quidditch player who changed positions since last year, Miss Weasley is doing a pretty fair job, grown into her beauty too… Sorry Professor."

Draco's smirk grew as his captain made the goal, putting the score at 30 points to 10. Gryffindor might be in the lead now, but as soon as he caught the snitch, Slytherin would be victorious, and the plan would be put in motion.

Draco was flying low near the Ravenclaw stands, contemplating the severe consequences he would undoubtedly suffer if he failed to properly complete his task, shuddering at the thought, when he saw it.

Potter, who had been hovering on the other side of the field made a sharp dive towards the Hufflepuff stands. There were whoops and gasps from the collective audience as Draco followed suit. He could just make out a faint glimpse of gold ahead. His determination increasing, he put on a burst of speed leveling with Potter.

No one noticed the platinum blonde mutter a few words under his breath. No one noticed a bludger halt in midair; only inches from a Gryffindor Chaser's face, and no one noticed it swerve magically towards the two plummeting rivals. No one noticed until… A shout from one of the Gryffindor Beater's alerted Harry. He looked up and swerved out of the path of the bludger only just missing contact. Draco stayed on course knowing full well the weight of his decision. He stretched out his arm, the snitch within his grasp.

Over the roaring in his ears he could hear the furious commentary, the gasps from the crowd, the stand-still that seemed to have befallen all of the Quidditch players. Everyone stared as Draco Malfoy grasped for the snitch, and as the bludger rushed towards his outstretched arm. He felt his fingers close around the cool metal and then… _WHAM!_

The bludger had collided with his arm! Draco's broom tipped downward and plunged earth-bound to the field, gathering speed until he crashed into the ground with a sickening _thud_! His broom flew out from under him and shot twelve feet from where he lay, motionless, on the pitch. Draco closed his eyes and waited for the pandemonium that would follow. "Draco Malfoy has… caught the snitch… Slytherin has won."

The words resounded throughout the silent stands, bewildered. It seemed that the school was in a state of shock that for once, Harry Potter, brilliant, faultless Harry Potter had never failed to win them a match against Slytherin. The sound of swooshing robes, dragging broomsticks, and running feet made there way across the grass and met Draco's ears. The Slytherin stands waited with baited breath, watching the team approach their fallen seeker.

Pucey yanked Draco up and his eyes flew open. "Get your slimy hands off me!" Draco hollered yanking his good arm out of Pucey's grip. The Captain looked at Draco for a moment curiously.

"SLYTHERIN WINS!" shouted Madame Hooch blowing her whistle to signify the end of the match. An uproarious applause sounded from the Slytherin stands. He tried to struggle but to know avail. Draco could feel several strong arms lifting him in a sitting position so that he was carried off the pitch by his team, dirty, sweaty, and finally, triumphant.

The hospital wing was silent that night, as Draco had expected it to be. Madame Pomfrey had rushed him to a bed, pulling out the hangings with her signature air of urgency, muttering angrily about the dangers of Quidditch and why on earth they would allow students to play such a hazardous sport in a school. Draco remembered her forcing some grotesque liquid down his throat that burned all the way to his stomach. He groaned pitifully, looking up at her with distressing eyes. She sighed loudly. "You'll be fine in the morning Mr. Malfoy," she snapped.

Draco rolled over in his bed, his eyes opening. It was well after midnight. Draco remembered the swarm of visitors he had after the match. Pansy Parkinson had knelt at his bedside wailing unceremoniously, while Crabbe and Goyle just stood there grinning stupidly. The entire Slytherin team was in to congratulate him, not to mention most of his fellow Slytherins. Draco smirked arrogantly. Draco had also remembered, Theodore Nott's visit. After everyone else had left, Nott had entered dressed in black. "It's my father in Azkaban too," he whispered. "I hope you know what you're doing." Then he had left, leaving Draco with in a pounding silence.

A sharp pain shot through his arm, but he ignored it. He was far too used to pain to be affected by it. However, he was Draco Malfoy, and Malfoy's _always_ milked something for all it was worth. The last time he had hurt his arm, he nearly got that brainless Hippogriff, Buckbeak, beheaded, had it not been for Potter stepping in and interfering in things that were not his business.

The night before, Madame Pomfrey had declared that Draco had a Magical Aneurysm in his arm. A dull throbbing ache had consumed his right side. He ignored it. The pain would soon ebb away and his arm would be completely and utterly useless. The bludger had hit his arm so fast and so hard that it had paralyzed it, or at least, that was the story. It wasn't broken, just ineffective.

He could do nothing with it until he was given the Elixir of Escensio which would restore his arm to its original value. There was only one flaw. The four main ingredients for the Elixir of Escensio could only be found in the Isle of Drear, and was very difficult to locate. Therefore, it was not in stock at Hogwarts and someone would have to go and get hold of it. Assuming that this would take a couple of months, Draco was to be released from the Hospital Wing with his arm in it's current condition until the draft could be found and used to restore his limb.

A weak sliver of sunlight peeped into the dark Hospital Wing's lofty windows, casting glimmers of light to dance on the walls. He closed his eyes feeling the light slowly but steadily creep into the room, and press in on his eyelids. When he opened his eyes, the informatory was filled with dazzling sunlight and Madame Pomfrey was putting the hangings that were once around his bed in a cupboard. She looked up to see him watching her.

"Oh, you're awake. Good. I trust your arm is feeling better. I have spoken to Professor Dumbledore about your Escensio and he has estimated about a month or two before they will be able to obtain the elixir. You are going to have to wear a sling over your arm until then, and you will have to have someone write for you, as you will be unable to do so."

She was very curt with him when she was slipping his wobbly arm into the sling. "You are to report to breakfast as usual. When the draft has been found, you will be summoned back here. One of your teachers will inform you at the allotted time." After saying that, she shooed him out.

Draco headed for the Slytherin Dungeons, his green Quidditch robes swishing along behind him. It was still early and not many Slytherins had awoken yet. The common room was empty when Draco stepped in.

He walked up to his dormitory, which was filled with the sounds of snoring and heavy breathing, signifying that his roommates were all still deep in the peaceful realm of unconsciousness. No one had awoken. It was still dark in the room, seeing as they were underground and there were no windows. Draco felt his way towards his trunk clumsily unlatching it.

He pulled out his wand and muttered "_Lumos_". Now able to see what he was looking for, he rummaged through his belongings awkwardly until he came across a small clear vial containing a deep purple liquid. He pulled the cork out of the top with his teeth and let the thick substance pour down his throat.

A strange feeling originated at his shoulder, like the strong tingling one gets after their arm falls asleep. The tingling raced down to his elbow and shot into each one of his fingers. After a few seconds of the intense re-awakening of blood in his veins, he removed the sling with his left hand and threw it into the trunk along with his wand. Grabbing his black Hogwarts robes and uniform, he headed to the shower. His right arm was still, slightly sore and weak from the bludgers blow, but no more than any normal bruise. It was useful once more. The hot water beat down on his pale skin. It felt refreshing after his sleepless night, the streaming liquid waking him up even more effectively than the Elixir of Escensio had.

Draco stepped out of the shower and padded across the patrician bathroom drying himself off with a downy black towel and pulling on his uniform. It was Sunday, but he really wasn't in the mood to pick out attire, especially when he wanted to make as little noise as possible. He lifted the lid of the trunk pulling out his sling and wand. He muttered a quick spell that cleaned his laundry, and placed the now unsoiled and neatly folded Quidditch robes into the trunk, closing the lid carefully so as not to wake the dunderheads he was forced to share a room with.

Not in the mood to tolerate his bulky and thick-headed classmates, he stole away to the Great Hall much earlier than he usually did. The glittering verdant hands on his elegant silver wristwatch told him that it was only 6:30 in the morning. And it showed in the Great Hall. A few people littered the tables. There was no one at the Slytherin table. But there were three people at the Gryffindor table. Potter, Weasley and Granger were poking morosely at their food. Draco was pleased to see that all three of them looked grumpy and downtrodden, no doubt because of their pitiful loss in the previous day's Quidditch game. 

It didn't take him long to make up his mind. He had been planning on waiting until Potions class the next day, but this was a much better opportunity, and Draco was not one to pass up good opportunities. He approached the table smirking.

"How does it feel, Potter? Suffering a humiliating defeat when there isn't a single dementor around to scare you off your broom?"

Harry Potter looked up at Draco, anger coursing through him, but seemed that words had failed him. He just glared grudgingly.

"What's the matter Potter? Cat got your tongue?" Draco teased, sneering. "Wait, I take that back. The cat hasn't got your tongue; it's got the snitch, because you just can't seem to catch it."

Weasley stood up, his face reddening. "Why don't you just sod off Malfoy?" he shouted.

"Why don't you just buy a new robe Weasley?" Draco retorted, indicating Ron's sleeves which were about 2 inches too short. "Oh that's right, you can't. Your family spent all of their money buying you and your talent-less little sister new brooms. New, second-hand Comet Two-Ninety's. The slowest brooms on the market, I believe?"

Ron was positively fuming at this point and looked as if he was ready to punch Draco. Granger put a hand on Weasley's arm, this seemed to have a calming effect on the redhead because he sat down. She then turned her brown eyes on Draco.

"Don't you have a hair appointment or something to get to, ferret boy? Wouldn't want to be late."

"Look in the mirror Granger. Maybe you should follow me on this one. It's called Sleak-Eazy's. Don't your friends tell you about this wizarding stuff, Mudblood? Oh, that's right. Your only friends are carrot-top over here," Draco sneered, gesturing at Ron whose nostrils were flaring like an angry bull, "and Potter who, by the looks of it, hasn't even heard of a hairbrush." 

"At least Harry can win a game without hurting himself in the process!" Granger shot back. "Oh wait, I forgot. You haven't really hurt yourself. This is just like you. You get a paper cut and somehow weasel your way out of having to do your work and make someone else do it all for you. And if not that, then at least get an innocent creature killed and a professor fired!"

"Weasel? No. Sorry, you're mistaken. That's your boyfriend's job, Granger."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Ron is not my boyfriend!" Hermione huffed. At this, Weasley looked slightly disappointed, but still held a steady glare on Draco. "Now, you are going to feign injury and use it to get whatever you want, and get someone else in trouble! Who are you trying to bring down with you this time, Malfoy?" "Ms. Granger!" Hermione's head snapped up and her eyes widened. Draco looked over his shoulder to see none other than his favorite professor, and head of Slytherin House, standing intimidating over three cowering Gryffindors, along with the strict Professor McGonagall. "Just because Mr. Malfoy has beaten Gryffindor in a Quidditch match, it does not give you a reason to hurl false accusations at him. Do you even know what has happened to your classmate? He has an aneurysm in his arm," Snape lectured in his slow sickly voice. 

Hermione gasped unconsciously. Draco smirked at the puzzled expressions on Potter's and Weasley's faces. Snape continued, staring pointedly at the two bewildered boys. "That means he can't use his arm for anything except extremely simple tasks. But I wouldn't expect you two to know that. I think a punishment is in order for Ms. Granger's unfounded indictment."

Professor McGonagall, who had remained quiet, spoke up. "Ms. Granger, I find it hard to believe that you, of all people, would render such a blame. I am afraid, I must agree with Professor Snape on this matter. And, I believe I know a fitting punishment. Mr. Malfoy cannot write with his arm in its current condition, and so… "

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Professor! You can't be serious!" Snape glared at Hermione.

"I think it would be a good lesson for Ms. Granger, to spend some time with Mr. Malfoy, and learn to have some respect for her classmate. Especially, in his unfortunate state."

Draco heard Ron mumble under his breath something that sounded like "Yeah, alive" after Professor Snape's last comment.

"You will go to the library tonight after dinner and help Mr. Malfoy with all of his assignments. This shall become a part of both of your schedules until Malfoy's arm has been healed," McGonagall ordered sternly before she and her fellow Head of House turned and walked up to the teacher's table, Snape giving the Gryffindors one final glare before he went.

Draco, at first, appeared angry about this new development, but it was fleeting. His expression returned to cool indifference. "I'll see you at seven in the library, Granger," he muttered. Leaning in he added so that only she could hear it. "Wouldn't want to be late."

With that, Draco turned on his heal and sauntered out of the Great Hall, leaving Hermione staring, stunned in his wake.

_I guess that's it. Please leave reviews. I really enjoy them and they encourage me to keep on. I love constructive criticism, so please, please, please review! I want this story to be really good. If you think that's possible, please tell me what I can do to make it so. If you don't, tell my why it's so bad. But I want to know your opinions._

_Yay, now I have 5 chapters that go together. sings and dances "You and me, and me and you… So happy together!" Review please!_


	6. Six: Rewarding Punishments

Author's Note: This has been quite a day, I think I am almost finished with the revisions! Man, cops are assholes, I hate them all and hope they die and rot in hell!

Pairings: Draco and Hermione

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16-year-old American girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

****

Shadows of Light

Chapter Six

Hermione trudged into the library at six thirty. She took a seat at a table toward the back of the library, setting down her bag that was, as usual, bulging with books. She certainly didn't want to be seen with Malfoy. No, she didn't want people to know that Malfoy had not only triumphed over the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, but her as well. Now she had to spend her evening helping him with his schoolwork. _What a stroke of luck_, she thought bitterly as she headed to the entrance of the library to wait for that insufferable ferret. She settled herself down and propped a promising looking book open on her lap.

She was early. This didn't surprise him; she was the type that was always early and always prepared. She was the type that really annoyed him. He was supposed to have been there at 7. He told her not too be late; a Malfoy was too good to wait for a Mudblood, but that didn't mean they couldn't wait for him. It was now 7:45 and sauntered over to where she sat, in the front of the library, engrossed in a book. For a moment, he stood there, without her noticing. 

She sat straight in her high-backed chair. Her dark chocolate eyes scanned the contents of the pages interestedly, peering down her delicate nose, with her lips pursed. Her skin was fair and clear with faint brown freckles dotting her nose, giving her an almost innocent quality. Her hair fell in frizzy waves that tumbled down to the middle of her back, but it somehow seemed different now that he saw it up close. It was glossy, tamed, even with the incredible frizz. It was a strange and alluring combination. He was so close now he could smell the faint scent of her shampoo…

"Malfoy!" Draco snapped up, not realizing how close he had actually gotten to her until she was pushing her chair back, an expression of alarm etched on her face. Draco's features were habitually masked, which was fortunate, because it took a moment for him to recover his cool.

"Bugger, Granger! I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes! How interesting can those damn books be?" Draco lied suavely. A rosy hue colored Hermione cheeks. She snapped the heavy volume shut with a _thump.  
_  
  
Hermione stood up, straightening her conservative black school robes. She led Malfoy to the back of the library, where her things were without a word. He sauntered over to the table as Hermione sat down in one of the two chairs. Draco dropped his bag on the table and took his seat propping his feet on the tabletop and cradling his head lazily with his functional arm, his right arm resting comfortably in his lap. Hermione simply stared at him. What was she waiting for? "Well, get started," he smirked enjoying the expression of enragement that flitted across the furious Gryffindors face.

Hermione stood up angrily. "If your idea of this punishment is for me to do all of your homework while you laze about like a twit, you have another thing coming!" she shouted.

Draco leered at the livid girl in front of him. "You don't have a choice Granger. It's your punishment." He drawled swinging his legs from the tabletop to land eloquently in front of him, "besides, how do you think I feel? Putting up with a filthy—"

"You're the one who got yourself hit by a bludger! This is just some ploy to get good marks without having to work, and I refuse to be any part of it! By the way, Malfoy, no bludger could ever give anyone an aneurysm, not unless it had been—"

Malfoy stood up abruptly; it was _his_ turn to interrupt. Hermione was instantly distracted from speaking those last two words that could give him away, _tampered with_. He moved closer to her, a threatening gleam in his eye. Soon he was towering over her, blocking her only method of escape.

"I wasn't insulting your intelligence, Granger," he whispered dangerously. "I was insulting your common sense, and it seems… " He moved closer to her, pinning her against the bookshelf with his strong body. "It seems I was right." Draco didn't know what made him do it. He certainly hadn't planned on close proximity with the filthy Mudblood. He took in her delicate features, noting that, for a Mudblood, she was not completely unfortunate-looking, now that he looked at her.

He brought his fingers up to hang back near Hermione's dainty chin. She flinched at his intimacy, as if it burned. He looked into her dark, russet eyes. She was frightened. Draco had half a mind to lower his head and kiss away her fears. He tried to shake the unwelcome thoughts of her away, but her irresistible aroma was overpowering his ability to think rationally. Draco threw caution to the winds, moving even closer to her.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" she asked in a trembling voice. "It's a shame really," he said huskily, ignoring her question. He reached a slender finger to her flushed cheek. Hermione recoiled as his cool finger made contact with her skin.

Making up her mind, she glared at Malfoy with cold unmasked malice. "What's a shame?" Her glare was strong but her voiced was quavering, betraying her inner fear.

"Such a waste," Draco continued as if she had not spoken, voicing inner most thoughts he was not even conscious of until that point. His eyes lingered on her mouth. "Such beauty and intelligence wasted on tainted blood."

Hermione could not speak. She looked into his blue-gray eyes, his deep voice still playing in her head. What was he playing at? He spoke before she could voice this question.

"Now, I have a three foot History of Magic essay due tomorrow," Draco said abruptly as if nothing had happened, turning away from her slightly.

Hermione shook her head, bringing herself back from her state of temporary disillusion. "I'm not doing your homework, Malfoy. I am not your servant."

"Who says you aren't?"

"Oh! Let me bow down to the every whim of the Slytherin prince," she retorted sarcastically attempting an extravagant mock bow. This proved difficult as Draco's left hand flew up and grabbed her wrist forcefully, stilling her movements. Despite the fact that it was his weaker arm, he was still incredibly strong. Hermione tried to ignore the flurry of sensations that snaked up her arm at his touch as she struggled to free herself from his tight grip. He turned his head and looked at her lazily; her efforts to break his hold clearly amusing him.

He moved in closer to her, so that his hot, minty breath fanned her face. Hermione's eyes stayed focused scathingly on Draco's. His chiseled features were illuminated in the dim light of the hanging lanterns that adorned the library's walls. Hermione thought Draco looked uncharacteristically handsome, but she did not dare show it.

"You will obey every whim, Granger," he said in a low perilous voice, glaring into her dark eyes so intently that she was sure he could see into her very soul. "I will make sure of it."

Hermione tilted her chin in what she hoped was a daring manner. "I'd like to see you try," she retorted icily.

"Oh, I will, and you won't have a clue what hit you," he drawled, leaning in towards her. Hermione became suddenly aware of exactly how close Draco's face had become while he was talking.

She stared at his chin refusing to meet his probing eyes, wishing he would pull away, wishing not to take in his words, wishing only for him to leave her alone before her thoughts took on a very dangerous turn. She shifted her gaze taking in his full sensual mouth. He had surprisingly luscious lips, a feature his malice and cruelty had concealed.

His lips twitched in that tell-tale smirk that had always set Hermione's nerves on edge. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, the insane desire to taste that smirk, to feel those supple lips moving seductively against her own tingling ones…

A heated flush crept up Hermione's cheeks. She hadn't meant to do it, but she found herself looking into his eyes. His glare was weakening, as if he had the power to melt all of her resistance into helpless subsistence. His eyes held hers, looking angry, always angry. She could fell herself being drawn to him, could almost feel his lips on hers…

Perhaps it was a stroke of luck that the clicking sound of prim heels on a wooden floor brought them both back to their senses. Draco moved away from Hermione immediately turning his face towards the bookshelf to hide his anger and resentment at the unwelcome presence, forgetting that it was already masked in his expressionless face.

Madame Pince stuck her long nose around the corner and peered angrily at the two students. She took in the work space where not a book was open or a piece of parchment lay, nor did quill or ink did litter the table. Then her sharp eyes turned to Hermione's flushed face and Draco who turned around from the bookshelf with a blank face. Her eyes narrowed.

"The library closes at eight o'clock," she said crossly. "I would expect two sixth year _prefects_ to know this. You two could at least try to set a better example for your younger classmates. Now go on, get out, both of you. It's past eight thirty!"  
  
Hermione muttered an apology for losing track of time and grabbed her bag. Draco followed suit, gathering his own possessions. Madame Pince watched the two depart with tapered, accusing eyes. She did not remove her sharp gaze until the library door closed behind Draco's back.

Hermione swung around to face Draco. He noted the high patches of anger on her cheeks. "Just what the hell are you playing at Malfoy?" she demanded keeping her voice precariously low. Draco simply smirked, raised his eyebrows once, turned away from her and sauntered out of sight. Hermione was too flustered and bewildered to realize that Draco was not directing himself towards the dungeons where Harry and Ron had told her the Slytherin common room resided, but instead towards the Entrance Hall that led out onto the grounds, fingering his wand in the pocket of his Slytherin-crested robes.  
  
The Gryffindor sixth years were all buzzing the next day. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had come back from Care of Magical Creatures class the previous day chattering excitedly about the unusually good lesson they'd had studying Hogwarts' very own giant squid.

It was with a considerably lighter heart that Hermione, along with Harry and Ron, stepped onto the grounds of Hogwarts heading towards their Care of Magical Creatures class. It was a surprisingly nice and warm day for the beginning of October.

The Slytherins had already gathered in front of Hagrid's hut. Hagrid stood in front of the students smiling broadly, waiting for the rest of the class to arrive. When everyone was present Hagrid began to speak.

"Alrigh' class," Hagrid beamed. "Got a real surprise fer yeh today! We're headed fer the lake. C'mon then, get a move on!" Hagrid, impatient to get the exciting lesson started, led the class to the lake where the giant squid was gliding lazily across the crystalline surface in the early October sun. "Now this is the giant squid. He was put in the lake in front o' Hogwarts fer sixth year students ter study in Care o' Magical Creatures classes, 'bout twenty years back. Righ' then, this squid is relatively passive, but the others like it are slightly violent."

Hermione had a dreadful feeling that 'slightly violent' really meant extremely dangerous. She saw Harry and Ron share a look that clearly said they had thought the same.

"This one here is almost fully grown. They can get to be about 70 feet from the top o' the head to the tip o' the tentacles. They reach maturity at abou' the age o' thirty an' can live up ter 200 years given the righ' conditions." Hagrid's back was to the colossal monster lounging in the cool water, otherwise he would have gotten a shock as the large tentacles rose out of the water to tower high above even Hagrid's head. There were many horrified gasps from the students.

Hagrid turned around, distracted by the students' unexpected reactions. He hollered and jumped out of the way as the tentacles reached out, probing the masses. The students turned and began to run from the prying tentacles.

They were too worried about getting out of the creatures way that they didn't notice the tentacles push others away reaching for Hermione Granger. She screamed as the slimy feeler curled around her slender waist, hoisting her off the ground. The squid recoiled its limbs having claimed its prize.

Hermione screamed and struggled against her slippery confinements. The circular suckers seemed to have latched onto her skin, ensuring that she didn't slip through its clutches and fall from its grasp. Hermione screamed louder, but she was so high in the air that she wasn't sure that anyone could hear her petrified shrieks. Hermione _really _didn't like heights.

The students stopped now that the danger was over. Not many people noticed that Hermione had disappeared. A few people had heard her scream, but they didn't realize it had taken her. Only four people noticed that Hermione was now flailing high in the air by the squid's slick tentacle being pulled down closer and closer to the glassy surface of the lake.

Harry and Ron turned shouting simultaneously as Hermione slipped under the surface. "Hermione!" They both bolted towards the lake, but someone had beaten them there and was diving into the lake headfirst. Neither Harry nor Ron, nor, it seemed any of the rest of the class, had seen who it was that had jumped in after Hermione.

Harry and Ron were about to follow suit when two very large hands prevented them from doing so. Harry turned around angrily. "Hagrid!" But Hagrid shook his huge hairy head, a look of utter disbelief on his face. "Yer not ter endanger yerselves! I'll go in there an' get her. Yer ter keep yer feet firmly on the ground till we get back," he told them sternly, backing up to dive in.

The icy water burned Draco's pale flesh. Hermione's frightened white face stood out in stark contrast against the deep blue water as she was dragged down into the nameless depths below. Suddenly, the water gave an almighty lurch, swerving Draco from his destination, as a much larger form dropped into the frosty water. It was Hagrid.

Draco knew that brainless oaf would jump in after Hermione and do the dirty work for him. Sure enough, Hagrid wrestled the tentacles that bound Hermione. The massive squid's long limbs kept lashing out at Hagrid, but it seemed to have released its hold of Hermione.

She floated away in the water, her head bobbing slightly. Draco swam over to Hermione his lungs burning due to lack of oxygen. He ripped off the sling with his left arm and freed his "injured" limb. Draco grabbed Hermione's limp body and struggled towards the surface. His chest felt as if it was about to explode if it didn't get oxygen soon. Draco pushed at the water with his right arm, holding on to Hermione's bulk with his left. He began to get frantic for air. There was a murky light just above his head. Draco pushed for it, and with one final kick of his legs, he surfaced, gulping in the crisp air.

Hermione surfaced as well, but her eyes were closed and she was very still. Draco swam over to the opposite shore of the lake, away from where the students were, hauling Hermione's lifeless body with him.

He reached the shoreline out of breath and pushed Hermione up before climbing up onto the welcoming earth himself. Draco muttered a few words pointing his wand at the lake and moments later Hagrid emerged out of breath and panting. He treaded over to the other students as the giant squid reappeared at the surface and began once again swimming back and forth, calmly and lazily.

Draco looked back at Hermione. She was not breathing. He pressed his wand tip to her abdomen. "_Aetas metonio!_" Hermione sputtered out water and took a few shaky mouthfuls of air.

"Malfoy? What—I mean—what happened?" she stammered, still coughing slightly. Draco looked into her deep eyes.

"You aren't to utter a word of this to anyone. Do you understand me Granger?" And before she could protest, he was gone making his solitary way up the sloping lawn and into the castle.  
  
Hermione stood up sopping wet, with bits of grass clinging to her drenched body. On the other side of the lake, the students were gathered together speaking urgently to Hagrid. She supposed she had better get back to the class a few Slytherins hung back with smug expressions on their faces. Hermione made her way to the rest of the class, to tumultuous cheers and exclamations from the Gryffindors and Hagrid ("We thought we'd lost you!", "Are you alright, Hermione?"), but her mind was somewhere else; in the castle with a boy from Slytherin who hated her, but had just saved her life… __

Whew! wipes brow I really hope you like this chapter. Writing this chapter has been my release from the real world. I must ask that I have you on my list and I take the time to email you so please take the time to review. I would appreciate it.


	7. Seven: Rumors of Truth

Author's Note: I have revised up to this chapter and I believe it's gotten much better than it was before, I would like to thank those of you who have gone back and read all of the chapters over and also those of you who are reading this for the first time, and I hope you like my story!

Pairings: Draco and Hermione

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16-year-old American girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

****

Shadows of Light

Chapter 7

Whispers followed Draco as he climbed the stairs towards Transfiguration class, his last class of the day. He caught glimpses of his classmates' conversations.

"Yeah, Pansy Parkinson saw the whole thing."

"Pansy? I heard it from Neville Longbottom. He saw Malfoy jump into the water."

"But why would Malfoy want to save Hermione from the squid?"

"That depends, why would the squid attack her?"

"Parvati Patil said she saw Malfoy sitting with Hermione on the opposite shore, whispering something to her and then getting up and walking back up to the castle."

"But _why_ would Malfoy save Hermione?"

"He obviously didn't want to be seen. He jumped in right before Hagrid, and Hagrid being so huge blocked him out," Neville murmured to a group of Ravenclaws.

"I don't understand. _Why_ would Malfoy want to save Hermione? He hates Muggle-borns."

"I don't understand how only three people could have seen him. He wasn't exactly discrete, if the rumors are true."

"Malfoy's more secretive than that. It's not something he would do, just walking away in plain daylight." "What if he _wanted _to be seen?" 

"I still don't understand _why_ Malfoy would save Hermione!"

"And his arm in that sling!"

"He did it single-handedly, that's pretty impressive."

"Oh shut up, he's obviously faking the injury, like last time he hurt his arm. It's only a ploy to get attention."

"No, he has a magical aneurysm, not even Malfoy could pull that off. Madame Pomfrey announced it; he is waiting for the draft that will restore his arm."

"But how could Malfoy save Hermione single-handedly?"

"_Why_ would Malfoy _want_ to save Hermione in the first place? If you ask me, it's a bit dodgy."

"Well, I can tell you one thing; the Slytherins aren't happy about it."

Wasn't _this_ the truth? Draco thought gloomily, slamming his books down onto his desk near the back of the Transfiguration classroom. Professor McGonagall gave him a stern look from her desk in the front. No, the Slytherins were a bit more than 'not happy'. They were very angry at Draco for saving the Mudblood that hangs on Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Shouldn't-Have-Lived.

Pansy Parkinson was the only Slytherin that had seen Draco. Frankly, he was disappointed in that fact. Slytherins were supposed to be observant. Draco was also impressed with his own unintentional subtlety. He hadn't been trying to be inconspicuous. In fact, quite the opposite... of course, one would never have known that by looking at him. However, all of the Slytherins knew now. This was the part Draco that had been dreading; the reaction of his house mates. Draco Malfoy had rescued a know-it-all Mudblood from a deserved fate.

The second that the Care of Magical Creatures class had let out, the Slytherins had stormed angrily down to their dungeon common room to see Draco sitting on the couch in front of the dying fire. Draco taken a shower and put a quick drying spell on his robes and uniform. He knew this would not deter the Slytherins' accusations. The fact that Draco had beaten them to the common room in the first place would be reason enough to believe what was true. Draco knew he could have taken precautions to stop the rumors from starting, but then, he _wanted_ the Slytherins to know. He _wanted_ them to put two and two together as only Slytherins could.

Pansy Parkinson raced to him, tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. "What the hell is wrong with you Draco?" she demanded, wasting no time. "Why in the name of Salazar Slytherin did you save that Mudblood? I _saw_ you go up to the castle!"

An abundance of accusing eyes bore into Draco's silver ones. "I have my reasons," he drawled to the annoyance of most in the group. A few, Crabbe and Goyle included, just looked baffled that Draco would rescue a Mudblood, particularly one that he hates. More Slytherins poked their heads out of their respective dorms, curiosity taking over at the storm brewing in the common room. Draco showed no fear or anger. It did not bother him in the least that in a very short time, the entire house would despise him for bringing disgrace to the name of Slytherin by sparing the life of a Gryffindor _and_ Mudblood.

"She's a fucking Mudblood!"

"_And a Gryffindor!"_

Slytherins streamed into the room now, expressions of disgust and outrage plastered over their evil faces. A few of the Seventh years, who hadn't paid much attention to Draco in previous years, were now noticing him. Draco fought back a smirk. He stood up now and faced everyone's glares with cool indifference. "The Mudblood will serve her purpose soon enough for the Dark Lord. I have my reasons," he announced coldly. One Slytherin, a year older, whom Draco had seen at a few of the Death Eater meetings, fought his way through the crowd to the front. His black hair was disheveled and his malicious inky eyes were blazing in anger. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, anger tingeing his words. "You've betrayed the Dark Lord as you have betrayed the House of Slytherin! What purpose could one Mudblood serve that another couldn't just as well? They're all the same!" He looked as if he wanted to get closer to Draco, scream in his face, hit him, and hex him; however Adrian Pucey stepped between him and Draco.

"Let go of me Adrian!" he hollered struggling against the confinements that were Pucey's arms.

"He has dirtied Slytherin pride and honor!"

"Look at this boy! You, Diablo, are so close to our Master, yet so far away if you cannot see that Draco was chosen for this assignment. Calm down. He has his reasons for saving the piece of filth as we shall all see when the time is right." Adrian bellowed heatedly.

Diablo stopped struggling and Adrian released him. "Besides," he added, "we still need him as a Seeker." The other boy straightened his robes huffily, turned on his heal, and left the common room.

These encounters had become more common as the story spread throughout Slytherin House. Draco had plopped back down on the couch and most of the Slytherins had dispersed muttering to themselves and shaking their heads in disbelief and shame.

Draco was just relaxing when he heard the swish of a cloak very close to where he lay. He jumped up; his wand poised expertly in his hand aimed at a third-year's startled face. Draco recognized the boy as Malcolm Baddock, a boy that had always been much bolder than was wise, with two parents in Lord Voldemort's inner circle. "What are you doing Malcolm?" he asked in a quiet deadly voice.

Malcolm shuddered and looked at Draco's wand tip which was aimed right between his eyes, lowered his own wand, and took a shaky breath. "You saved a Mudblood," he murmured, and then gathering his nerve, he rambled on. "Everyone is upset about it, about--about how you disgraced the name of Slytherin."

Draco looked into the boy's fathomless pale eyes dropping his own wand. "You listen to me, Baddock," he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "Rescuing that Mudblood may seem uncharacteristically nice for the work of a Slytherin, but trust me, when I'm finished with her, the nice thing to do would have been to let her die in the lake. If you _ever_ try to attack me while my back is turned, you will wish for her fate. You should do well to remember that."

Malcolm gulped and backed out of the common room. If there was one thing Draco had learned in his years at Hogwarts, it was never ever attack someone while their back was turned. The ferret incident still burned brightly in his mind, but it seemed, to his immense relief, that nearly everyone else had forgotten about it. Everyone, that is, except Potter and his friends.

Draco hated Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, had always done so. At first it was the fact that Potter had refused his friendship to be friends with a Muggle-loving Weasley. But Draco's hatred had intensified over the years. He seized opportunities to make Potter's life miserable along with Weasley and Granger. But Draco wanted to claim revenge on them. He wanted them to suffer as he suffered when they landed his father in Azkaban. He wanted to see Potter squirm under the Dark Lord's wrath. He wanted Potter, Weasley, Granger, female Weasley, Longbottom, and that other girl Looney Lovegood to suffer for what they did to his father and a group of the Dark Lord's high-esteemed Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries last year. And they would…

But it was Hermione that Draco detested the most at the moment, even more so than Potter. What right did a girl with no Wizarding heritage have to be excelling over Draco's own exceptional marks? She had even beaten him out in Potions. Her work was so damn annoyingly perfect that even Snape couldn't find anything wrong with it. She was a bushy-haired know-it-all Mudblood, and that slap still burned his cheeks three years later, not from pain, but from humiliation: being hit across the face by a Mudblood, the foulest of Wizard-kind. What right did Granger have to be witty? What gave her the right to be clever and beautiful, two qualities so many eligible Pureblooded girls lacked?

"Mr. Malfoy!" Draco snapped back into attention to look into Professor McGonagall's livid face. Her lips were very thin as she glared at him. "I was just asking you the proper way to pronounce the spell that will turn a feather into an owl. If you would be so kind as open your book to chapter 47, you might know what we're talking about!" She stalked back up to the front of the class and resumed her teaching.

Draco gathered his books when the bell rang. As he made his way up to his common room to drop his books off before dinner, he allowed his thoughts to wander.

He had been practicing the unforgivable curses for six summers since he had been accepted at Hogwarts; his father, before he was captured, had thought that it was significant that Draco know these curses and Draco couldn't help but agree. It had been an easy task, therefore, to make the usually docile squid attack Hermione specifically. Draco had mapped out the area the previous night after his unproductive session with Granger.

Things went predictably smoothly. The only flaw in the plan was how Draco was going to be able to convince people that he saved Hermione single-handedly while also fighting the squid, but Hagrid had fixed that for him. Draco sat down on his four poster bed, no one in Slytherin house spoke to him anymore, not even Crabbe and Goyle, and he liked it that way.

Draco pulled off his sling and stretched his sore arm, flexing his fingers and moving his sleepy muscles. Hermione, whether she liked it or not, owed her life to Draco. A smirk played at the corner of his lips. Draco made it seem as if something beyond his reasoning had propelled him to rescue her from a terrible fate.

He knew what Hermione was thinking; she was attracted to him. He could see it in her eyes that night in the library. Draco knew what she would think about him after he rescued her life and played it off as if he hadn't meant to. She was pathetically predictable and Draco knew he was sending her into a state of all kinds of confusion. But Draco was a Malfoy, pure and simple, and incapable of any feelings toward a Mudblood, save the feeling of repugnance she gave him. Besides, nothing would please Draco more than to see her shocked expression when he delivered her to the Dark Lord at last. People were so easy to manipulate. All Draco had to do was sit back, which he did, cradling his head in his arms as he lay down on his fluffy mattress, and let Hermione come to her own conclusions.

----

Hermione made her solitary way to the library at 7 o'clock clutching her heavy bag. Her thoughts were racing as she stepped into the library and headed for the secluded corner she had reserved the night before. Hermione set her things down on the table and began pulling out books. She tried to focus on the open book before her, but the days events flooded her mind.

The squid plucking her off the ground and swinging her high into the air had been the most frightening sensation of her life. Hermione could still feel the slimy purple tentacles wrapped around her frigid body. She could still feel its clammy suckers attached to her skin. She gave an involuntary shudder. Hermione had never felt more afraid of heights in those brief terrifying moments in the air, the threat of falling great. She had screamed for help, but no one had heard her cries.

Hermione was still shivering after she had gotten out of the lake. Somewhere between hitting the icy water that scorched her sensitive skin and being pulled out to shore where her hair was plastered to her frozen face and her robes clung to her, providing no warmth, Hermione had lost consciousness. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was something moving swiftly towards her in the murky waters, something enormous.

When Hermione had awoken, she was sopping wet and freezing, and Draco Malfoy was sitting over her looking at her anxiously. He was also soaked, his usual impeccable hair falling in wet strands over his gray eyes. He had told her not to speak a word of this to anyone. Hermione had wanted to ask him what happened, she had wanted to thank him, but before she could utter a word, he was gone, leaving her cold, wet and quite alone.

Hermione learned quickly the story. Neville had seen Malfoy jump in right before Hagrid. The entire class, Slytherins included, was buzzing about what had just happened. Apparently the squid had attacked Hermione, and Malfoy had saved her. Hagrid had jumped in as well, but he had not seen Malfoy precede him. Harry and Ron confessed to seeing a figure leap into the lake after Hermione but the hood flew up and the person's identity was concealed. They had been about to follow when Hagrid had stopped them. Everything sunk in.

Hagrid had wrestled the squid, while Malfoy rescued her from under his whiskery nose. The story had spread fast, and Hermione was sure the entire school knew by now everything that had happened. Draco Malfoy had rescued Hermione Granger from the squid. There were tons of rumors flying around about Malfoy bewitching the squid to attack her, but that was far too advanced dark magic for the likes of Malfoy. Besides, if he did want the squid to attack someone, why her? And more to the point, why would he save her?

Harry, Ron, and most of the Gryffindor class were highly suspicious of Malfoy's motives. Again and again, Harry accused Malfoy of bewitching the squid to attack her. And again and again, Hermione proved him wrong with logic. Malfoy had saved her life, pure and simple.

Hermione thought back to their first session in the library. Had Malfoy done what he did because he cared for her? Hermione shook her head forcefully in an attempt to stop the butterflies that had began to flutter in the pit of her stomach at the very thought. No he couldn't… could he?

----

"Does she know?" Theodore Nott questioned slowly, as if he was speaking with a rather slow child. He and Draco were walking down a deserted corridor. The window had blown open causing the hall to be drafty and foreboding, a perfect place to discuss evil plans and not be overheard.

"Of course not, you git," Draco spat. "If she knew, the entire plan would be ruined; do you take me for a fool?"

The other was silent. "Sometimes I wonder," he muttered. Draco's feet ceased to stride. He turned to look at the Nott with an expression of disbelief on his immaculate face.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"Dunno," the other replied not meeting Draco's heated glare. "It just seems… well… weren't there any… better ways of going about this?"

"Are you questioning my methods?" Draco inquired feeling hot anger rise within him.

"Well…"

"Do you truly think they would have picked me if they did not trust my methods?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

"Er…"

"You listen to me, Theodore, the Dark Lord trusted my father, and now he has put his faith in me. I know what I'm doing, got that?" Before the processor could respond, Draco strode away grandly, his black robes billowing behind him.

----

Hermione looked at her watch. It was already 7:45 and no sign of him at all. Well, he had shown up exceptionally late the night before, maybe this was the case again. She was hoping his tardiness would not become an every-night occurrence, but it did give her a bit more solitary reading time. She turned to her studies. _School_, she thought, _the only thing that makes sense_.

At eight o'clock, Hermione packed her things into her bag and walked out of the library. Malfoy had stood her up. Just as well, Hermione would rather not see him. Because seeing him would force her to confront the ludicrous ideas dancing in her head and Hermione was not ready for such a confrontation.

She turned to go to the Gryffindor tower, but fate it seemed, had other plans. Hermione was too lost in her own thoughts to realize that there was someone ahead of her in the corridor, a flushed, angry someone striding towards her. It was only until she collided with him head on that Hermione was met with the silver gaze of the last person on earth she wanted to see…

----

Okay, that's all folks! Please don't pelt me with rotten tomatoes! I had to leave it on a cliffhanger! But if you are extra sweet and review, I'll write faster and post the next chapter as soon as I can! cough-review-cough


	8. Eight: Burning Ice

Author's Note: Thank you for reviewing my story, I appreciate it. I've decided to rate the chapters rather than the entire story. This chapter is rated R for sexual content, nothing fancy, just honest.

Pairings: Draco and Hermione

Rating: R

Summary: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16-year-old American girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

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Shadows of Light

Chapter 8

For a moment, Hermione was trapped in his stony gaze. She straightened up to her full height where the top of her head just barely grazed his strong chin.

She then scooped up her bag, turned on her heel and began to walk away from Draco, the reluctance to face him still determining her movements. She had only taken three steps when his large figure barricaded her path. Hermione stared angrily at his torso, refusing to meet his icy eyes. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"Hmmmmm, not even a 'hello'? Or a 'thanks, Draco, for saving my life'?" he drawled.

Hermione now met his cold gray stare. "Fine. Why didn't you show up on time? That's twice already that you've been considerably late. I know this is only a punishment, but that doesn't give you the right to go shoving me off, especially after what happened earlier!" she fumed.

Malfoy gave an elegant shrug. "I had other things to do."

A wave of rage swept over her. "Like what? Putting unforgivable curses on other harmless creatures! Don't think I don't know what you're up to!"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You don't know the half of it Granger. But if you know what's good for you, you will just shut up about things that you don't understand!"

Hermione backed away from Malfoy who now looked just as livid as she had been feeling earlier. "Just leave me alone, Malfoy," she said quietly averting her gaze from his.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Granger," Draco snarled.

"And why not?" she demanded her voice rising passionately.

Draco chose not to answer her question.

"I don't understand you," Hermione went on glaring at him.

Draco's eyes grew angry, and then a sneer spread across his pale face. "What makes you think I want you to understand me, Mudblood?"

Hermione glared at him, chocolate fire dancing in her dark eyes. For a moment, she didn't speak. "Because," she spat her every syllable trembled with white hot rage. "You call me a Mudblood as if it's the most disgraceful thing in the world to be born from Muggles. But I can think of something worse. Being born into a family based on prejudice and hypocrisy, being taught to hate the same thing you worship. It's not my father in Azkaban! It's not my blood!" She touched his arm, lightly, an almost forgiving gesture.

"Don't touch me Granger," Malfoy replied frigidly pulling away from her as if her truth and gentleness burned him.

"Your _pureblood_ is the reason for all of this misery," she whispered turning away from him. He grabbed her wrist, halting her movements. "What do you want from me?"

Draco smirked. "What do you think, Granger?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "I could think of a few things Malfoy, none of them very pleasant."

Malfoy let out a low husky chuckle. "I'm not as bad as you think I am, Granger," he muttered huskily, stepping slowly towards her.

Blood pounded in Hermione's ears and her heart thumped madly in her chest. "No, Malfoy, your worse. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really should be going."

But it was too late, Hermione tried to turn away from the heat radiating from him, she tried to turn her face away from his, tried to unlock her eyes from his mercury glare. Her bag fell to the floor, but neither of them noticed the _thump_ it made as it hit the polished wooden floor.

His finger lifted her chin, tilting her face towards his. "You're right… I am much… " his face was very close to hers, "much… " she could smell his cinnamon breath, "worse," he murmured finally closing his mouth over hers.

A slow, powerful heat enveloped them both. Hermione tried to keep her mouth closed against his, but it was no use. His tongue slid in between her lips and her gasp of surprise gave him the full admittance he sought. She moaned against his lips.

Draco dipped her head back further as his mouth devoured hers. Hermione's lips moved against his, helpless under the fierce passion that he was pouring into her.

Draco removed his mouth from hers to trail his hot tongue down her sensitive neck. Hermione let out an involuntary gasp as his tongue massaged the particularly delicate spot between the nape of her neck and the curve of her shoulder. She hardly noticed that her modest robes had been pulled away from her shoulder to expose more tender skin.

A voice in the back of her head cried for her to stop, to pull away, to end this maddening behavior. But as Draco's lips once again took savage possession of her mouth, her voice of reason was silenced.

Draco reached out his hand, groping the wall until he found what he was looking for, the door to an empty classroom. He twisted the doorknob and they stumbled in. Hermione pulled away, a look of terror in her eyes, but Draco wasn't thinking rationally. Before she could move, the door was locked and Draco had turned towards her, a dangerous look in his eyes.

Hermione was aware of backing away, aware of her quickened pulse, aware of her disheveled robes, but she was not aware of the bookcase that was behind her, until her back hit it, ceasing her futile escape.

In moments, Draco had cornered her. "Don't tell me you don't want this," he whispered in a hoarse voice, his tongue plunging into her ear. Hermione let out a soft whimper, and her eyes fluttered shut.

His hot mouth traveled down the column of her throat, and she rolled her head back to give him better access. A wild desire seemed to drive her actions. Before she knew what she was doing, her robes had fallen to the ground to pool around her feet.

His hand cupped her tingling breast. Her clothes began to feel hot and itchy. She pulled her sweater over her head, freeing her breasts from their confinement. He stood for a moment, taking her in, before devouring her. He began to kiss her neck, softly, almost gently, his hand massaging her nipples. She could feel her nipples becoming more erect, longing for his touch. Then he lowered his mouth to one, her right one. She let out a gasp of pleasure as he tickled it with his tongue, occasionally biting it gently, before moving to the other one.

She could feel herself lowering to the ground, taking him with her. His shirt and his robes seemed to have vanished instantaneously. She could feel his fingers undoing the clasp on her jeans, and she grabbed his manhood, feeling it pulsing through the denim that was restraining it. It was his turn to let out a gasp, planting wet kisses on as much of her skin as he could reach.

She was pulling at his zipper, his pants were tangled around his ankles, then they were gone, somewhere, neither cared where. Her pants were next, it didn't take long for her to cast them away into the realm of nonexistence.

She could feel his finger slide into her, stroking her very core. His tongue was probing her bellybutton. She moaned against his touch. Then, slowly and deliberately, he moved his mouth lower. She almost couldn't stand it as his tongue entered her. Ripples of pleasure cascaded throughout her entire body.

"Take me," she whispered. For a moment, she thought he had not heard her, but then he moved away, catching her eye. His glare was of the hungry animal catching its prey. Then, he granted her wish.

With one deep, powerful thrust, he entered her. Her breath caught as he delved deeper, never taking his eyes from hers. That was when it struck, a wave of pain coursed throughout all of Hermione, wiping away every hint of desire. She felt cold and used. He didn't stop, the pain continued. It felt as though it was a hundred knives rather than Draco Malfoy inside of her, her every nerve was on fire and she could hear herself screaming.

He pulled out of her, there was blood on him and he was pulsing. Her body shook in great spasms and there were tortured tears in her eyes. Draco took in the delicate curves of her breast, her taut, red nipples, her small stomach, the triangle of hair masking her womanhood. She began to move, closing her legs slowly, gingerly. Her thighs ached and the pain that had seemed so real a moment ago had become a dull throb. She wanted not to move, she wanted to wait for the pain to ebb, but she had no such luck.

Draco was already getting dressed. He threw her clothes to her as he reached them. Draco looked at her, his expression almost too easy to read. He looked guilty.

"Listen, I… I'm sorry if I hurt you," he muttered turning away from her.

Hermione flinched as she moved to collect her clothes. "You didn't," she lied.

"I wasn't talking about that," he muttered almost too softly to hear, "I was talking about this." He opened the door, his wand poised. "_Accio Bovioria!_"

It was in those brief seconds, while they waited, Hermione noticed the hand holding his wand. It was aimed expertly as if he had been using that hand to cast spells all his life. Then she noticed something much less subtle; on the marble floor a little way out from where they were standing was a white piece of cloth that was unmistakably the sling that had previously held Draco's perfectly capable right arm. Draco wasn't hurt. He was faking after all… but how?

Draco wasn't looking at her. She pulled her robes closer to her. "Draco…" she whispered, reaching out to him.

A threadlike silver object was whizzing towards them. Draco closed his fingers around it and turned to Hermione with a grim expression masking his handsome features.

Draco grabbed her left hand and closed the silver object around her tiny wrist. It seemed to cling to her pale skin. Hermione looked down at it in confusion. It was a thin silver line on her wrist. There were no jewels or designs. It was simply a line that snaked across her wrist. One would think it was drawn on in silvery ink that did not wash off. Hermione touched it, but there was no distinguishing between the bracelet and Hermione's skin save the color change.

"I didn't want to do this Granger," he muttered looking down at the line on Hermione's wrist. She looked at him, comprehension dawning.

"Why would you do this?" she demanded. Draco could sense she was not only talking about the Bovioria.

"Didn't you realize," he muttered turning away from her so that she could only see the sleek hair on the back of his head, "that after all of this was over; I would deny the entire thing and go back to being horrible to you?"

"You can turn your head from things you don't want to look at, Draco Malfoy, but you cannot turn your heart from emotions you don't want to feel," Hermione whispered, tears prickling her eyes.

"Watch me," he muttered.

Hermione stared at him as if he were mad. But before she could utter another word, he was gone with a swish of his long black cloak.

Her eyes burned against a wave of tears. Giving in to what every instinct in her body screamed against, she began to sob until her entire body shook in violent fits of pain. For hours she cried and screamed on the cold hard floor of the empty classroom.

It seemed that hours had passed before Hermione made her solitary way up to the Gryffindor dormitory.

----

Her face looked horrible, red and splotchy so that everyone could tell she had been crying. She splashed cold water on her face, feeling her skin come alive under the icy drops. She changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth.

She was just loading up her toothbrush a second time when a voice echoed in the empty room.

"Merlin Granger, how many times do you have to brush your teeth before they're clean?" It didn't take Hermione long to recognize that cold drawl. She spun around on the spot.

"Malfoy? Where are you?" There was no answer; the bathroom was completely vacant except for her. Hermione pulled back the shower curtain, no one there. Hermione yanked open the cupboard but it too was devoid of any conceded Slytherin pricks.

"Show yourself!" Hermione whispered through gritted teeth.

"I'm right here," Malfoy's voice laughed. She followed the sound and found herself looking at her own reflection in the mirror. But Draco's voice seemed to be coming from her. How was this possible?

"I know what you're thinking Granger," the disembodied, but no less arrogant, voice went on to say. "You're wondering what that silver band does on your wrist. Am I wrong?" Hermione didn't respond, anger ceasing her retort. He was right, she was wondering that but she wasn't about to admit it.

"I see what's in your head, Granger. I can feel your anguish, almost as my own." He began to whisper something, Hermione couldn't decipher it. However, the next instant it became clear, her body began to feel less tired, the ache in her lower regions was diminishing and her head, which was throbbing, felt suddenly much better.

"This changes nothing, Malfoy," she lied, though her voice was much less harsh than it had been earlier.

"I'm not a bad guy, Hermione."

"Go away," she almost pleaded. "Stop playing these mind games on me Malfoy. And I'm not meeting you in the library anymore either, since it's obvious you don't need…. " Suddenly, her throat constricted causing her to gasp for air.

"Sorry, love had to do it. You understand of course. You will meet me in the library at seven, just as we've been doing and if you try and tell anyone about my arm," Hermione's throat closed completely before opening the oxygen passage once more. "I'm not all bad Granger. In time you'll understand."

A sudden horrible thought struck Hermione. "Can you read my mind? Is that why I can hear you and you me?" she gasped clutching the sink to steady her wobbly legs.

Another soft chuckle sounded. "You can hear me because I want you to hear me. I can hear you when I want to hear you and I can see you likewise."

"But how?" Hermione touch the gleaming bracelet that encircled her wrist. It couldn't be.... could it? She looked down at her encompassed limb where the silver band shimmered innocently in the light. "Malfoy! Are you using this bracelet to control my mind?"

There was no answer. "Malfoy?"

Hermione walked back to the large stone sink and picked up her toothbrush, secretly waiting for Malfoy to say something else. But he did not speak again. She padded out of the bathroom and climbed on her four-poster, carefully listening for a snide drawling voice, or a sigh, or a deep mirthless chuckle, but none came.

Hermione remembered when he had used the summoning charm. He had become quiet, pensive even and then he summoned a _Bovioria,_ and this silver band had come to its master's call. The word sounded in her head, _Bovioria_. That was what he had summoned, _Bovioria**, **_and he was using this _Bovioria _control her mind.

Hermione pulled her covers up and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to wash over her, ignoring the nagging feeling of disappointment deep in her heart.

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I'm sorry if I depressed anyone, but I am having a hard time in my life, and I tend to write according to mood. This chapter was influenced by "Figured You Out" by Nickleback, good song, also "My Immortal" by Evanescence.

Okay please review. I know this chapter was a little strange, but it's a crucial turning point in the plot. So I hope you enjoyed it and please, please review.


	9. Nine: Unfound Discoveries

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Author's Note: A big warm thanks to all of you who reviewed! Grins and takes the cookies offered to her by Lady Demon I'm thrilled that so many people are enjoying my story, but don't forget to review. If you haven't read the Order of the Phoenix, GO READ IT! LoL! It was a really good book. Currently, I am changing the chapters to better suit the story and tie in with OotP. Chapters 1-8 are revised and as soon as this one is posted it will be revised too! Woot!

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Pairings: Draco and Hermione

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Rating: PG-13

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Summary: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

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Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16-year-old American girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

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Shadows of Light

Chapter 9

The common room was empty, as it usually was whenever he was around. He preferred it this way, in the absence of people; he could contemplate his plan properly. But this night, Draco's thoughts were elsewhere.

Hermione Granger: bookish, conservative, Mudblood, Granger was in love with him. If he could convince her that he fancied her as well… she would be only too easy to bend to his will. His revenge on Potter would be complete. Somehow, that thought gave Draco a solemn shiver of regret.

He glanced down at his wrist. A silver band showed brightly, the flickering of the common room fire dancing on its reflective surface. He had been wearing it since he had acquired the Bands of Bovioria. One resided on his wrist and the other on his victim's. It was a link that connected them. It was this link that enabled him to enter Hermione's mind, and command her body. But it was merely a link; he did not have complete control.

Perhaps, he should proceed with the formalities sooner than he had anticipated. There was a full moon tonight. Once stage two was complete, he could deliver her to Lord Voldemort any time he pleased, as long as they were off Hogwarts grounds. He would be free of her. He would be released from the spell that held him captive to her, for it was vital that he escape from the Mudblood. He had to rescue himself before something horrible happened… like really falling in love with her. Was it already too late?

Draco stared moodily into the dwindling fire. The common room had become very drafty, but he didn't seem to notice the chill bumps prickling the pale skin on his arms. He could only think of Hermione. He had watched her pile more toothpaste on her wet toothbrush and raise it to her mouth. Draco wanted to feel that mouth against his own again. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to feel her breasts crushed against his strong chest…

Draco shook his head furiously in an attempt to extricate the thoughts piercing his resolve. He did not care for Hermione, no Granger. He was a Malfoy. He did things properly, and falling for the Mudblood was not the proper way to go about the plan.

Yet her face still danced behind his closed eyelids. He couldn't forget her wide astonished eyes, when he gave in to the temptation to kiss her anger away. He couldn't forget the way her lips responded to his. The way her hot body flattened against his own, setting off his liquid pulses. He couldn't forget the look of pain on her delicate face, or the feeling of guilt that still lingered in his heart. All he wanted was to forget, forget that he had known her, that he had hurt her in a way no one could understand…

Draco stood up and ambled to the lavatory. He stared deeply into his reflection. His reflection stared back, cool, aloof, and arrogant. It was hard to tell that this image of perfection in front of him was facing the weakness of desiring a Mudblood, _the_ Mudblood that he was going to use to ruin Potter and his sidekick the Weasel.

Draco twiddled the elegant handle on the chrome sink and a jet of ice cold water spilled into the refined basin below. He slid his hand under the sheet of water and splashed some onto his face. His cheeks stung under the icy droplets. However he welcomed the tingling discomfort, it alone, gave him the feeling that he was still the aristocratic confident person that stared back at him from the large Slytherin mirror on the wall, when all of his other senses begged to differ…

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Draco had spoken nothing to Hermione all day. She had never met his mercury stare, however many glances she stole in secret at the lunch table; something she would fervently deny aloud. He puzzled her. She wished he would talk to her, yell at her, insult her, give her some sort of inclination that he acknowledged her existence instead of this cool indifference. That must be why he was doing it, he knew it was torturing her. Her feelings were an open book to him because of the band.

Hermione had a good idea of what it did. Draco had gained admittance to her mind. He also had the power to close her throat, constricting her air passage whenever she mentioned his injury. She was sure there were other things he wanted kept secret, however it puzzled her why he went to such drastic measures to silence her. She knew there must be more to it than the obvious. An object like this was clearly full of dark magic, and a book on such would surely only be found in the restricted section of the library. Hermione's heart sank.

Sudden loud booming voices alerted Hermione to the fact that dinner had just ended. She was sitting at one of the large wooden tables in the Gryffindor common room with several books propped open in front of her. Harry and Ron had insisted that she was not herself and pleaded that she go to supper instead of catching up on her homework, but Hermione was adamant.

"Hermione, we brought you some food," Harry said when he and Ron arrived at her table. "Yeah, we figured you might be hungry since you skived off dinner and all." Ron dropped a wet cloth full of steamy food in front of her. Hermione looked up from her book and smiled at them in gratitude. However, neither returned the grin; on the contrary, they both looked quite serious.

"I think we should talk, Mione," Harry said pulling up a chair and seating himself at the table. Ron followed suit.

Hermione had expected this since she had forcibly persisted in not going to dinner then slammed the portrait door shut in their anxious faces.

"Alright," she sighed resignedly.

"Malfoy's done something to you, we know he has. What's going on Hermione?" Ron demanded the second she gave compliance.

Hermione had expected this as well. She took a deep breath readying herself to explain that yes, Malfoy had done something to her. He was imitating an aneurysm in his arm, forcing her to return to the library every night at seven to keep up his masquerade for some unknown purpose, rescued her from something that she would normally not be in danger of in the first place, not to mention their heated, unexpected encounter last night, and the equally confusing and abrupt _Bovioria_ Draco had attached to her wrist that enabled him to control her.

But as she opened her mouth to explain this, her throat stopped up. The sudden absence of necessary oxygen halted her explanation. The only sound that was able to force its way through her tight throat was a soft inaudible groan.

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I warned you not to say anything, Granger. Malfoy's cold voice drawled in her ear. Dots danced in front of Hermione's eyes, her vision was blurry. Her need for oxygen grew more urgent. _Malfoy please_, she thought desperately. He chuckled melodiously. His voice was so close; she could almost feel him leaning over her, his hot breath in her tingling ear…

"Hermione!!" "Are you alright?" Harry's and Ron's faces came into sharp focus as her vision cleared. They had both left their chairs and were standing over hers.

"Nothing, I'm fine," she lied implausibly.

Harry and Ron looked unconvinced. "Alright, I have just been having a few bad headaches from all this overwork and helping Malfoy with his writing everyday. It's nothing to worry about. I'm okay, it's gone now."

Harry and Ron still looked quite unconvinced. "Hermione," Harry began pulling his chair up much closer to her than before and sitting down. "It looked like you were gasping for air, headaches don't do that. Ron and I think that there is more to this then you are letting on. We think Malfoy's done something, ever since he saved you from the squid, what's going on?" Ron nodded fervently from his stance behind Harry.

"Look, Malfoy is… " Her throat closed momentarily, as if he was daring her to say more so that he could seal her air passage for good…"is a prat," Hermione finished lamely.

"We're not leaving until you tell us what's wrong," Ron said stubbornly. He sat down in the second wooden chair and crossed his arms obstinately. Harry seemed to be trying to catch Hermione's eye, but Hermione turned away before he could fasten a glare. Too many people were trying to get in her head!

"Then you're just going to have to wait here forever, aren't you?" a voice that was not her own spat out angrily, she was then propelled by some invisible force to grab her books shove them into her bag and stomp up to the girl's dormitory leaving behind her two stunned best friends.

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The library was especially quiet that night. Draco was late, as usual, but Hermione had been hoping he would be. She was plotting of a way to sneak into the library after Madam Pince had closed it up and read up on the _Bovioria_ in the restricted section.

She could nick Harry's invisibility cloak from the boy's dormitories and sneak in. But how would she be able to steal it and replace it without Harry's noticing and what if one of the boy's was awoke and saw her? She would have to wait until she was sure everyone would be asleep and by that time it might be too late.

There was always the possibility of sneaking in when Madam Pince's back was turned, but she could never be sure when the stern librarian might look in to make sure no one had done just what Hermione was planning. Not to mention, the prospect of sneaking in and out unnoticed was bleak.

Perhaps she could exit the library at 8, as usual, and then wait behind a stone pillar for Madam Pince to depart, and then sneak back in. As long as she wasn't caught on her return journey, it seemed foolproof. That was if Malfoy didn't get in the way. Perhaps he wouldn't bother to show up until it was too late, like last time. She only hoped he wouldn't interfere too much. The thought of the night before sent a shiver down her spine. It seemed unlikely that he didn't know what she was planning. He knew everything she was thinking.

Time passed slowly like the grains of sand gradually slipping from one prism of an hourglass to the other. Hermione cast an aggravated glance at her watch. It was only 7:30. Well, she could leave and wander around for a half an hour, there was really no point in staying. Malfoy was probably going to stand her up again. She packed her books in her bag and swung it over her shoulder.

"Going somewhere, Granger?"

Hermione spun around. There, leaning on the bookshelf directly behind her chair, was Draco Malfoy an expression of pure evil etched on his aristocratic face.

A thrill of unexpected delight raced up Hermione's spine. She wasn't happy to see him, just _surprised_, yes surprised… not happy at all. She forced a scowl on her face in hopes of ignoring her body's immediate response to Draco.

"I asked you a question Granger. Where do you think you're going?"

"Well, it isn't like you need me here!" she hissed finally finding her voice.

Draco's expression cooled immediately. He was no longer looking smug. His jaw was set in a furious line and his eyes narrowed dangerously…

She had startled him. "Of course I need you here, Granger, you're supposed to be writing for me… did you forget?" His voice was very cold and suave, Hermione was instantly reminded of Lucius Malfoy who was known for his debonair method of skirting trouble, except the last time when he was caught with a group of Death eaters and sent to Azkaban.

"You know just as well as I do that…" She couldn't breathe, her heart was pounding painfully in her chest, she was gasping for air, the room was spinning, blackness was closing in around her…

Then, everything stopped. It took Hermione a few moments to realize where she was. In the confusion, she had managed to fall into Draco Malfoy's arms. She took a couple shaky breaths before Malfoy spoke. "I know you want me, Granger, but please have some decency, this is a public place!"

Hermione pushed him away. "I wouldn't touch you if you were the last man on earth," she whispered vehemently.

Draco stepped in towards her and bent down slightly so that his hot breath fanned her ear, "that's not what you said last night."

"I wasn't myself last night."

"No you weren't," he agreed. "The girl I was with last night was exciting and beautiful, not this run-of-the-mill goody-goody, bookworm in front of me."

Hermione felt this surge of passionate anger. As he was in uniform, she grabbed his silver and green striped tie and pulled it so that his face was mere inches from hers.

She said nothing as she peered into his astonished eyes. She needed nothing to say. There was something about him that she couldn't resist, something in the way he goaded her that made her fall for the bait. Why did he have this effect on her?

She raised her lips to his, kissing him softly. He opened his mouth and the kiss deepened. She had never felt this before. His arms held her close, tightened around her.

She broke away from him, gazing into his eyes. "Why do we hate each other so much?"

Draco held her to him for a moment, then released her. "Because, we have to."

He was gone then, leaving her feeling cold and quite alone. It was a battle, she realized, between righteous and self-righteous, and she would be damned if he won it.

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Hermione dropped her bag off in the Gryffindor common room, thankfully unnoticed by Harry and Ron as they had not yet returned from Quidditch practice. By the time she had reached the library it was 8:05 and Madame Pince was just closing the doors. Hermione ducked behind a large statue of Pegasus, an immense majestic horse with outstretched wings. Madame Pince glanced up and down the corridor and then headed in the opposite direction in which Hermione was hidden.

Hermione waited until the clicking of Pince's high heel shoes faded into the distance before emerging from her hiding spot. The halls were as quiet as a tomb when she opened the heavy door to the library. It made a soft _thump_ when it closed behind her. The library was covered in a cloak of darkness Hermione had never seen before. The bookcases loomed high above her looking tall and mysterious. The room held a sense of foreboding that was not present during the waking hours.

Hermione opened the door to the Restricted Section and walked in. A rustling sound immediately came from the shelves as the door creaked shut behind her. It was almost as if the books were whispering to the new presence. Hermione ran her fingers along the spines of the books. A few shivered at her touch.

Most of the books had no titles inscribed on their spines, or the words were scratched out, some titles were unreadable because of deep purple stains that reminded Hermione a little too much of blood. She shivered and drew her robes closer around her body.

The section on the Dark Arts took up more than half of the restricted section, from Potions that kept one in insufferable agony if they told an untruth, to spells and enchantments used for unthinkable pranks, to powerful evil objects used for controlling one's mind, to wandless magic with destructive effects… _Wait! _There it was. _Devices of Devastation: An In-Depth Guide to Powerful Dark Objects and Their Sources._

Hermione resisted the urge to grab the book from the shelf and start flipping through the pages for fear that it might start screaming loudly as a similar book had done to Harry five years ago. She eased the book off of the shelf. Figuring she might as well be comfortable while she researched, she opened the heavy door and reentered the library.

Hermione chose a seat near a wide window where moonlight from the full moon outside illuminated the handsome black cover of the book. She flipped to the back of the book and ran a finger down the index. "Bovioria, Bovioria," she muttered as she searched. "Bands of Bovioria? Page 297." That had to be it; nowhere else on the page in the B section was the word _Bovioria_.

Two linked silver bands decorated the top of the page. Hermione recognized them as identical to the one that circled her own wrist. Underneath the sparkling picture was the caption:

_Bands of Bovioria_:

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Known as the most powerful and difficult to control magical objects in the world are the linked Bands of Bovioria. Their unique magic is only successful if the two bands are united between two mortals. One who possesses the bands must perform a ceremony under the light of the full moon and proclaim himself master of the bands. According to the ancient legend of King Gorgetrek, the master must use an enchantment known as the Ivatrionius Incantation (pg.299) and drink from the Draught of Ditoritius (pg. 301)

When the master of the bands attaches the remaining Band of Bovioria on his victim's wrist, they are linked together by the ancient magic of the Bovioria. The master is able to enter the victim's mind at will and control the victim's body. The two can coexist in this state over a period of one month before the magic wears off and the victim is freed.

If the master wishes to gain complete control, he must take the victim in seclusion underneath the full moon. There, the victim must drink from the Draught of Ditoritius. Once this task has been performed, the victim becomes trapped in his own mind and has no control over his actions. In this state the victim may be released in one of two ways. The first and most common way is death. The second is much less customary. The victim must drink from the Draught of Ditoritius upon the will of the master under the full moon. In this way, the spell would be reversed and the band would fall to the ground leaving the victim free and unharmed.

There is only one way to release a victim from the power of Bovioria once the spell is upon them.

The next crucial sentence was pulled out of her grasp suddenly and forcibly. Hermione started. It had to be Filch or Madame Pince; someone had found her in the library after closing with a book from the restricted section! She was going to be in so much trouble. "I'm sorry I was just… "

"It's past the time for reading."

"Malfoy?"

"I knew you would be here," Draco whispered. "So perfectly predictable."

"You know that isn't true, Draco Malfoy, and if you think for one second that I'm going to let you turn me into some mindless minion, you have another thing coming!"

He arched a quizzical eyebrow. "Do I?"

Hermione's eyes brimmed with tears. Why had she felt anything for Draco Malfoy? Why had she expected him to love her? She could feel her heart breaking. She had tried not to give in to him. She had tried not to trust him. But, mostly, she had tried not to fall in love with him.

"Now, are you going to be a good little Mudblood and bow to the inevitable, or am I going to have to use force?" he drawled stepping closer and closer to the trembling girl, twiddling his wand between his slender fingers.

Hermione felt her fury returning full force. "I will never bow to you, Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth pointing her wand at his face.

"We'll see about that! _Expelliarmus!"_ The wand flew out of her hand and Draco caught it with ease and stuffed it into his pocket, where Hermione got a brief glance of the cork-stopped vial containing bright glowing blue liquid. "After all, I never said you had to bow to me… yet."

Before Hermione could move, or scream, or kick, or attempt to grab her wand from the confines of Malfoy's pocket, his strong hands were upon her tiny waist and his hot body was pressed against hers. Her breath caught.

"You belong to me, Hermione," he whispered in her hair taking in the intoxicating fragrance.

"No," came her weak reply. "You can't do this."

"I don't have a choice." Draco's voice was cold, detached, almost as if a greater force than his own freewill was determining his actions.

Hermione felt the sudden sensation of movement as he swept her feet from under her and hoisted her over his shoulder. He began his journey towards the Hogwarts grounds. It was a strange moment, even though Draco Malfoy was quite possibly carrying her to her doom, Hermione couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at being in his arms once more…

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The satisfaction of a job well done! This chapter was inspired by the song "Always" by Saliva! Please send me reviews, I would love your input!

Okay, I thought it would helpful and convenient to add this: **Pronunciation Key!**

Bovioria- bow-vwar-ee-uh

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Escensio- es-sense-ee-oh

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Ditoritius- deet-or-ee-tious

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Ivatrionius- eve-ah-tree-oh-knee-us

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Gorgetrek- goar-gu-treck

I have the worst pronunciation in the world, until I read the fourth book I pronounced Hermione's name Hermenee. So I figured I would put a key in there for all of you who (like me) pronounced Hermione's name wrong until she sounded it out for Krum in Book 4! O and one more thing… REVIEW!!!


	10. Ten: Lost Victory

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Author's Note: Don't forget, if you want an email when I update, leave your address and I'll be sure to add you! Now that the formalities are out of the way, I just wanted to beg you guys to please not kill me after you read this chapter because I… well… you'll see…

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Coauthor's Note: stupid grin I've been promoted! Boo ya Grandma! Sorry to all the readers for this taking so long! It's partially my fault, I wasn't a very good muse. This is a really good chapter though and I think you will all enjoy it. And don't forget to review, because I'm running out of room to hide the bodies!

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Pairing: Draco/Hermione

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Rating: PG-13

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Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16-year-old girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

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Summery: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

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Shadows of Light

  
  
**Chapter Ten**

"Let me down!" Angry fists pounded Draco's toned back in a fruitless effort to cause him pain. He smirked slowly, ceasing his long stride abruptly. Hermione felt herself being effortlessly dropped; her feet skimming the marble floor. She attempted to push away from the strong confines of his arms, but his grip around her was unyielding.

He looked deeply into her eyes pinpointing her weakness. "I want it understood, that it is not only my neck you are risking by screaming like that."

Hermione looked into his eyes solemnly. "Please don't do this," she whispered. Her heart pound painfully against her rib cage; she was certain Draco could hear it.

She raised herself on her tiptoes to graze her lips against his.

Draco tried to ignore the waves of traitorous pleasure that rippled down his spine, but Hermione seemed to have a hold over his common sense. He had to remember who he was, had to remember that what was between the two of them was nothing more than an untimely, unfortunate attraction at most and that as soon as she was under the spell, all of this nonsense would be put to a stop.

Yet, his firm hands cradled her smaller frame closer to his own heated one. Yet his lips opened to hers. Yet his heart cried out that this was so much more than a simple attraction, so much more than the nothing he was trying to turn it into.

Hermione savored the taste of his lips and the delicious way her body responded to his; for it was probably the last time she would feel him this close to her again. A wave of sorrow engulfed her for she realized that nothing she could say to Draco would convince him of what was real; it was something he would have to learn on his own.

She choked back an unexpected sob. Finally, her chance to break free presented itself when Draco loosened his grip on her slender waist to trek over her small feminine figure.

Deliberately, she disentangled her hands in his now disheveled hair and placed her small hands firmly on his shoulders. She then pushed with all her might against Draco's masculine structure. But, he was too quick for her, though; as soon as she broke away, his hands clamped around her waist and she found her petite frame being crushed once again against his own sturdy one.

"I never denied that you were clever," he whispered. His full lips, still wet from the previous passion, grazed her tingling earlobe, "but you didn't really expect me to give you up that easily, did you?"

Hermione could almost feel his self-satisfied smirk against her tender jaw, and when he spoke again, his hot breath fanned her sensitive skin. "You'll have to do better than that."

Hermione felt panic rise within her. Thinking quickly, she brought her foot up slowly and inconspicuously, so as not to alert him to her movements, and then all in one swift motion, brought it slamming down upon Draco's perfectly shined boot… hard. He let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp of pain.

Hermione took the opportunity and pushed against him. This time, she felt the welcoming sweep of cool air greet her. Draco made a furious swipe at her in a futile attempt to regain control of the situation, but she was already sprinting in the only open direction, towards the oak doors and wrenching them open.

Moonlight illuminated the marble floor of the torch-lit entrance hall from a silverish-gray to a magnificent opulent white. Draco darted after Hermione, ignoring the dull throb in his big toe, the heavy door swinging noiselessly shut behind him.

He tore after her elucidated form at break-neck speed. She was headed for glowing yellow light in the distance; Hagrid's hut. Draco put on a burst of speed, refusing to let his mind linger on what the consequences would be if she reached that great oaf's dilapidated shack and foiled his plan.

Hermione chanced a frenzied look behind her. Draco was drawing level with her. He was extending his arms for her. With a gasp of horror, she felt his strong hand grip her wrist. Immediately, he stopped running and Hermione nearly fell as an effect of the abrupt halt.

Everything happened in a hazy blur after that. Draco's hand clamped over Hermione's mouth. Her muffled screams did not disturb Hagrid, happily ignorant of the scene taking place just outside his hut. He then twisted her arm behind her back and led her reluctant form farther away from the groundskeeper's house, away from the castle, away from any chance of escape.

Hermione tried to hold back, but Draco pressed his lean body against hers and forced her to move on. He pushed her towards the lake and its saturated banks, until Hagrid's cabin was a mere dot on the vast horizon of untouchable freedom. Hermione stumbled to the ground when Draco released his hold on her.

She pulled herself up to a sitting position and watched in a terrified trance as Draco pulled out the cork-stopped vial from the pocket of his robe. He carefully avoided looking at her as he removed two wands from the lined confines of his robe. He put one back, Hermione recognized it as her own.

She watched transfixed as Draco muttered a soft incantation that she could not hear and pointed his wand at his wrist where a bright silver band glowed in the iridescent moonlight.

His silver eyes found hers. A wave of sorrow passed through his grim stare, but disappeared as quickly as it had come, to be replaced with his usual stolid gaze. Hermione's attention was drawn to her own wrist, which was also radiant in the eerie light of the moon. Draco moved towards her slowly unstopping the vial as he went.

A part of Hermione screamed for her to run, to escape, before it was too late. The florescent blue liquid was reflected in Draco's quietly turbulent eyes. He was close now. He was pulling her to her feet. The bottle was at her lips. Another surge of rebellion raced through her, but it was quickly squashed when he tipped the effulgent liquid into her open mouth.

She gagged and spluttered, refusing to let the ice cold potion down her throat. Draco tipped the vial more persistently. Hermione could feel it crawling down her throat like some fluid parasite. She swallowed helplessly as the draught entered her system. The effects were instantaneous.

Her vision blurred. Hermione could see Draco's wide silver eyes, his expressionless face. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She had not even been aware that she was stumbling. She could not feel her feet. She could not feel her hands which were, unbeknownst to her, now grasping her wand. She had not been aware that Draco had even given it back to her. Hermione was trapped within her own mind; helpless to do nothing but watch.

Draco's hand was under her elbow steering her back towards the castle. She moved mechanically. His voice was in her head, but his lips were not moving.

"You are Hermione Granger. You like to study. You think homework is fun. You are in Gryffindor house. You hate Slytherins. Your best friends are Potter and Weasley. You have no sense of humor."

"I am Hermione Granger," she recited obediently. "I like to study. I think homework is fun. I am in Gryffindor house. I hate Slytherins. My best friends are Potter and Weasley. I have no sense of humor."

The shadow of a smirk formed on Draco's face. No one would know the difference. The castle loomed reproachfully over them as he led her up the steps. He reached out his hand to grasp the handle of the heavy oak doors, but they were already swinging open. Draco and Hermione collided with two hidden figures. They tumbled down the stone steps. Hermione lay on the ground, her vacant eyes open and staring emotionlessly.

Then she sat up, an odd sort of half grin on her face, but looking in her eyes, one would not find amusement, only emptiness. Draco brushed himself off and glared around for whatever he had crashed into. He saw nothing at first. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand once more. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley appeared suddenly, a silvery shadow falling unnoticed to the floor behind them.

"Hermione!"

Harry faced Draco, wand poised while Ron rushed over to his friend.

"Hermione are you okay?" he demanded in a squeaky voice.

"I am Hermione Granger," she narrated.

The flame-haired Weasley helped Hermione to her feet and stared at her perplexedly. "I said are you alright?" he repeated.

"Homework is fun."

"Hermione," the freckle-faced boy inquired, "What's going on?"

"I hate Slytherins," she recited, looking straight ahead but not seeing what was before her, the worried and confused face of a friend.

"This isn't funny, Hermione."

"I have no sense of humor."

"What's wrong with you?" Weasley was getting worried now. His brow was furrowed in confusion. Draco backed away slowly. Taking one careful step into the dimly lit entrance hall, he could have sworn he heard the distant pounding of footsteps, but never got a chance to inquire as the meddling scar-faced good-for-nothing Potter had jumped in front of him once again.

"Oh no, Malfoy," he said through clenched teeth. "You're not going anywhere."

"I am in Gryffindor House." the curly-haired girl stated to no one in particular.

"Hermione!" Ron demanded, "What the hell is going on?" He shook her by her forearms and watched distractedly as her head lolled dizzily on her shoulders, her mouth still plastered in that wide empty un-Hermione grin.

Hermione's mouth didn't move at first, but in her head she was shouting as loud as she could. 'Malfoy's keeping me as a prisoner in my own mind! That's what the hell is going on!' On the outside, her words were quite different, but they seemed to have the same effect...

"My best friends are Potter and Weasley."

"Potter and Weasley? You never call us that" realization flashed across his hazel eyes,"...but he does." Ron turned his gaze swiftly to the aloof blonde. Draco's usually perfect hair was tousled, and he had the look of prey cornered by a hungry predator.

Harry and Ron stepped closer to Draco, backing him up against one of the still-open oak doors, their wands raised.

Potter was on him then, his fists clenching the cuff of Draco's shirt. Harry's green eyes blazed menacingly. "What did you do to Hermione?" he demanded.

Draco looked unflinchingly into his foe's eyes a sneer curling his full mouth. "Tell me!" Harry shouted slamming Malfoy against the hard oak doors.

Weasley pointed his wand at Draco's face. "What have you done to Hermione!" he screamed his blotchy face so close that Draco could smell his sweat. But Draco remained silent provoking the sniveling weasel more than any snide remark could have.

"TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO HER MALFOY OR I SWEAR I WILL CURSE YOUR SORRY ARSE STRAIGHT TO HELL WHERE YOU BELONG!"

Perhaps it was Draco's thoughts personified in Ron Weasley's squeaky voice that provoked a snide response from the remote blonde.

"Oh sure you will Weasley. You couldn't work a wand if it was tied to your--"

"PETRIFICUS TOTALIS!" the raging Weasley shouted.

Draco's body stiffened and clattered against the immense door. "What's wrong with her?" the fire-haired mongrel shouted spraying spit over Draco's frozen smirking face.

"Ron," Harry whispered in a shaky voice.

"He's not moving until he confesses!" Weasley shrieked.

"Is that so, Mr. Weasley?" a sinister voice asked coldly.

Ron's face fell. There in the open threshold directly behind a very still Harry stood none other than Snape in all of his greasy glory, an expression of pure malice painted on his sallow face.

----

__

I know, I know, I'm bad about the cliffie's but it keeps you on your toes… besides this isn't a really big one. This took forever and a day to post! I'm sorry guys! School is a bitch and then some. But I wanted to make this chapter a good one to make up for its er… lateness. Remember, be kind, review!

Peace, now all the chapters leading up to this match in happiness. First day back at school has made me a bit… abnormal. Review homies!

I also noticed that I am on the Favorites list of 42 people, omg, I didn't know you liked me! Happy dance!


	11. Eleven: Silent Screaming

**Author's Note: **o0o you liked it! You really liked it!! does happy dance A lot of you seem to not like my spacing, if it's so annoying, I'll change it, sorry for that!! sheepish grin o0o one more thing before I unleash my chapter upon you poor unsuspecting by-standers (teehee!) the dream sequence in this chapter is highly symbolic. Okay, so I'm completely insane, but that's okay, insane people were put on this earth to amuse everyone else!! I got the "Previously on... " idea from SNitchSS who is an amazing author, go read her stuff!

One more comment to add is that I have been keeping up with the revisions the next chapter will be the last chapter I revise (as chapter 13 is not yet posted—but it is finished and being critiqued) I also thought that readers such as yourselves might find it interesting to know what music influenced me in the events of the chapter. This chapter I found that the songs: "Here Without You" by Three Doors Down and "Somewhere I Belong" by Lincoln Park were quite inspiring!

**Previously on Shadows of Light: **

_A part of Hermione screamed for her to run, to escape, before it was too late. The florescent blue liquid was reflected in Draco's quietly turbulent eyes. He was close now. He was pulling her to her feet. The bottle was at her lips. Another surge of rebellion raced through her, but it was quickly squashed when he tipped the effulgent liquid into her open mouth._

_The effects were instantaneous. Her vision blurred. Hermione could see Draco's wide silver eyes, his expressionless face. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She had not even been aware that she was stumbling. She could not feel her feet. She could not feel her hands which were, unbeknownst to her, now grasping her wand. She had not been aware that Draco had even given it back to her. Hermione was trapped within her own mind. Helpless to do nothing but watch._

_She sat up, an odd sort of half grin on her face, but looking in her eyes, one would not find amusement, only emptiness. Draco brushed himself off and glared around for whatever he had crashed into. He saw nothing at first. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand once more. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley appeared suddenly, a silvery shadow falling unnoticed to the floor behind them._

_"Hermione are you okay?" Ron demanded in a squeaky voice._

"_I am Hermione Granger," she narrated. _

_"Hermione," the freckle-faced boy inquired, "What's going on?"_

_"I hate Slytherins," she recited._

_"This isn't funny, Hermione."_

_"I have no sense of humor."_

_Weasley pointed his wand at Draco's face. "TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO HER MALFOY OR I SWEAR I WILL CURSE YOUR SORRY ARSE STRAIGHT TO HELL WHERE YOU BELONG!" _

_"Oh sure you will Weasley. You couldn't work a wand if it was tied to your--" _

_"PETRIFICUS TOTALIS!" the raging Weasley shouted._

_Draco's body stiffened and clattered against the immense door. "What's wrong with her?" the fire-haired mongrel shouted spraying spit over Draco's frozen smirking face._

"_Ron," Harry whispered in a shaky voice._

"_He's not moving until he confesses!" Weasley shrieked._

"_Is that so, Mr. Weasley?" a sinister voice asked coldly._

_Ron's face fell. There in the open threshold directly behind a very still Harry stood none other than Snape in all of his greasy glory, an expression of pure vengeful malice painted on his sallow face._

**Beta Reader's Note: **This is some pretty good updating, right? Just say yes. I found some space to hide the bodies. '' Oh! and don't forget to review, because I am not above castration!

**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16 year old girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

**Summary:** Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

**Shadows of Light**

**Chapter 11**

No one knows what it's like

To be the bad man

To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

No one knows what it's like

To be hated

To be fated

To telling only lies

But my dreams

They aren't as empty

As my conscience seems to be...

_-The Who "Behind Blue Eyes"_

Snape sat rigidly in his straight-backed chair regarding the student before him with an indecipherable gaze. "Do you know why I asked you here, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco looked into the incalculably black eyes of the Potions Master. In all honesty, Draco couldn't imagine why on earth Snape had taken him, Draco Malfoy, poster child for all that was malevolently Slytherin, to the dimly lit dungeons that were his quarters. Shouldn't it be Potter and Weasley, the imbeciles that had ambushed and hexed him, that were brought down here for interrogation?

"No. I am curious about that, sir," Draco admitted.

"You were out of your dormitory at one o'clock in the morning, as well as your Gryffindor classmates, Mr. Malfoy. I am sure, however, that you have a good excuse for your behavior, and I would like to hear it."

Draco cleared his throat. "What do you mean Professor?" he asked slowly. "I told you why I was out of bed, that Harry Potter was planning to do something at night, and I wanted to stop him from harming anyone. You said it yourself, sir, Potter and Weasley have no respect for school rules." Satisfied with his lie, Draco waited for Snape to dismiss him. But, to his puzzlement, the elusive professor did not dismiss him.

"I was more concerned, Mr. Malfoy, with the state of another classmate of yours. One who you seem to have been spending much time with: Ms. Granger. She was oddly submissive and did not even protest when I assigned her, and her Housemates, five weeks of detention for their breaking of curfew. Do you know anything of this? After all, you two seem to be getting rather... close." Snape's speculative glare seemed to see through Draco's impassive expression. He had a horrible feeling that Snape knew more than he let on.

The pang of worry began to gnaw at Draco's stomach. The intimacy he had shared with Granger over the past month was not likely to go completely unnoticed by prying eyes. Draco had never given it much thought that they might be seen, Hermione seemed to have that effect on him. He maintained, of course, that each encounter was absolutely revolting, and occurred only out of pure necessity, resulting in no inkling of pleasure whatsoever. The mere thought was disgusting, wasn't it? Yes. Terrible. Horrible. It was just a last resort to help the plan run smoothly.

But, terrible, horrible, and revolting as all of those occurrences may have been, inconspicuous, they certainly were not. Why hadn't Draco thought of this before? If anyone had seen anything, Snape was definitely the person who had. Always stalking about the castle, robes billowing behind him as he swept through the dark corridors, seemingly, in search of students doing something that they would not want to be seen taking part in. Always there. Always watching. Always watching Draco especially, owing to the orders of his father and the Dark Lord. Draco must be well protected during the time when this latest plot of Voldemort's was being carried out. Snape not being in the Dark Lord's inner circle, probably was unaware of the finer points of the plan, Draco concluded, but had surely been alerted that Draco needed more scrupulous monitoring, to prevent any interferences with the Dark Lord's bidding. Now Snape knew something was up for sure.

Draco shrugged. "I didn't notice anything," he lied. For a moment, Draco thought that Snape hadn't believed his lie as his dark eyes narrowed suspiciously; however, he dismissed Draco with a wave of his hand, and a warning not to be caught out of bed at night again regardless of how honorable his intentions were.

---

Draco lay down on his four poster bed later that night, a frown of contemplation on his face. Snape had acted strangely. Draco was well aware that Snape was in service to Lord Voldemort. Snape was also a friend of the family's. It perplexed Draco that he would question Malfoy on a matter he knew concerned the Dark Lord, when he usually turned a blind eye to Draco's anti-Potter conduct.

But, he decided after another moment's contemplation, it didn't really matter. Snape could believe what he wanted. He would never actually hinder the plan in any way, not without serious consequence anyway. Hopefully, though, Snape was the only one who had suspicions. It was too late for Draco to turn back now. He had done it. The plan was near to complete. Granger was completely defenseless, just as he had promised Lucius she would be.

The Mudblood would go to Lord Voldemort and meet her fate; just as Potter would foolishly jump in to rescue her, and Lucius Malfoy's unfair imprisonment would be rectified. Somehow, Draco didn't find the thought of revenge as satisfying as he imagined he would. Ever since his father had been taken to Azkaban, which were the sole faults of those meddlesome Gryffindors, Draco had dreamed of being the one to rescue him, or at least make up for it. He wanted his father to be proud of him.

He closed his eyes for a moment to imagine the look on Lucius' face when he found out about his son's success in bringing forth Potter and his little friends. But his mind could only see Hermione's face in front of his; her deep almond eyes burning into his own silver ones, her pale cheeks flushed with ardor, her wide, sensual mouth full of life and passion. Draco opened his eyes at once and tried to blink the image away, but it was just as obstinate as the girl it represented.

He would ignore any feelings he had for her. She was nothing. What they had was nothing. There was nothing. He would believe there was nothing, ignoring the fact that a lot of nothing always equaled something. In his case, it was something much bigger than he could ever imagine.

His eyelids began to feel suddenly heavy as he realized how tiring his day had been and how late it had become. He succumbed to the impulse to close his eyes and felt sleep descend swiftly upon him...

_The room was cold. The walls were eerily white, so white, that Draco felt inclined to touch one just to make sure the room didn't simply open to the vast expanses of universal nothingness. Only one thing assured Draco that he was in a room at all; not too far from him, in a plain wooden chair, sat Hermione Granger gazing at him with her distressingly impassive expression._

_She opened her mouth and shut it again, like a learning toddler, trying to get accustomed to the feel of her own mouth, experimenting with its sound and movement. "I am Hermione Granger." Her voice drifted weirdly to Draco's ears._

_He took a step towards her, his footstep echoing darkly but silently around the surrounding emptiness. The walls, which seemed to flow right into the floor, and make up the never-ending ceiling, appeared to shudder with his motions. It was as if its impact was tremendous and minute all at the same time. They shook without moving and penetrated deep into Draco. There was something very strange about this place. Hermione was, predictably, unresponsive. Her smile was as blank as their surroundings as he drew closer to her still form._

"_My only friends are Potter and Weasley."_

_A quiver of something remarkably like fear chilled Draco's spine. He stopped glaring at her mockingly blank face. "Be quiet," he said in a soft voice. He didn't want to hear these little mantras he had so hastily taught her. They didn't sound right, coming from her. It wasn't Hermione. He didn't want to have to face what he had done to her. He had made her into something... not someone._

"_I hate Slytherins."_

"_I said be quiet!" Draco shouted. His head was spinning. The way she said hate, without the slightest trace of it. If only there was some emotion behind her words. It was more than he could bear._

_Hermione's vacuous, disquieting face smiled back at him. She cocked one eyebrow in a question that was free of all curiosity, maintaining her disturbing monotone, "I'm just a stupid Mudblood. I exist only to serve as a pawn in your plans. I am completely insignificant. My life, my feelings, and my words mean nothing. They are nothing. I am nothing. My opinions and words have absolutely no impact, why then should I be silenced?" Her vacant voice ridiculed him, spoken just as one of the few phrases he had taught her to recite. _

"_SHUT THAT STUPID MOUTH OF YOURS MUDBLOOD!! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!"_

_He could not contain himself any longer. He was now directly in front of her chair. He shook her by the shoulders as he shouted. He shouted to drown out his feelings. He shouted to drown out her words. He shouted to drown out the truth. The truth that he had used her as if she was just some tool that could be discarded when it was no longer needed. _

_He stopped shaking her. Her lack of response to his actions was frightening to him. He backed up. She did not rise to meet him, but stared up at him inexpressively. _

"_I'm Hermione Granger." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, as if she only realized what she had said. As if she had only realized the truth in her words. As if she had only realized who she was and where she was and who she was talking to. As if she was back to her normal self, not a slave to the potion, or the bracelet... or to Draco. She looked upon Draco as if only realizing he was there and being surprised at his presence and when she spoke, her voice was no longer empty and emotionless, but strong and full of truth. "I'm Hermione Granger," she repeated staring into his eyes. "And you, Draco Malfoy, are in love with me."_

_Draco took a step back. A fervent denial rose on his lips, but he couldn't spit it out. He took another step back. The words refused to come out of his mouth! He felt panic rise within him! Hermione would think he was in love with her if he didn't say otherwise!_

_Draco tried to open his mouth but found that it would not open! He no longer had a mouth! He tried to scream, but he no longer had a voice! The empty air was still ringing from Hermione's words and gave no heed to Draco's silent shrieks as he stumbled backward from where she stood. The look in her eyes was not of thoughtless vacancy any longer. It was blazing with truth, impaling his heart with her gaze and her words._

_Draco raised a hand to his face, he felt his lips, snapped shut... He couldn't' pry them open to voice his denial of her claims! Hermione rose from the chair and her gaze upon him intensified, reaching a hand as if to help him. Draco lost his footing and fell! Hermione disappeared from his sight. He fell further and further down into the white!. Draco did not stop falling, the emptiness consuming him, but not catching him... It would never catch him... _

Draco woke up with his mouth open in a silent scream. He was in love with Granger! No, he didn't love her; he was just feeling guilty, yeah, that was it. Deep down, Draco knew that he was making excuses, because Malfoy's didn't feel guilt when contributing to a "good" cause. But was it a good cause? He groaned and rolled over, groping for the lamp on his nightstand. He was not going to get any more sleep that night without Hermione's face haunting his dreams. When his hand found the switch, his four-poster was bathed in a dim, eerie light. His deep green comforter was jumbled up at the foot of his bed and his silver sheets were creased from where he lay. Draco pulled open the chest door with a slight squeak, grabbed a quill, piece of parchment, and bottle of black ink, and then closed it with a sharp _snap._

"Dear Madame Pomfrey," he narrated quietly as he wrote. The quill scratched the parchment in a loopy cursive that did not belong to Draco's hand. A half an hour later, he signed "Narcissa Malfoy," elegantly at the bottom. He read over the letter, making sure there were no mistakes.

_Dear Madame Pomfrey,_

_My son has recently suffered an injury involving a Quidditch match where he received an aneurysm from a bludger. I was shocked and dismayed that there was nothing in the school to remedy the unfortunate situation, so I decided it was upon me to heal my son. I have made some contacts with a few highly-ranked wizards and managed to grasp the very elixir that could restore Draco's arm to perfect working condition. He has been sent the Escensio and is now able to go about with his schoolwork,_

_I thank you for your efforts on my son, but a mother's touch is always best._

_Yours, Narcissa Malfoy_

Satisfied with the result, Draco folded the letter crisply and slipped it inside an envelope. The dungeon was as dark as ever, but Draco could tell by the animated silver clock on his nightstand that it was morning. This was the start of a new day, a new chance to see the plan unfolding. There were more obstacles ahead, and always the threat of someone noticing the difference in Granger; her friends already knew something was up, and had made it clear the night before. It would all be worth it in the end, he told himself, ignoring the sinking feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach over the course of the long, restless night.

He trudged out of the room carrying his steaming drink and letter.

----

The Owlery was crisp with morning light when he swung the thick wooden door open. A strong whiff of owl dung met Draco's nostrils with a furious force. Draco held his breath, not used to the revolting odor that was the natural order of animals. His own eagle owl was perched on the highest shelf with his head tucked under his wing asleep but straight-backed and at the ready, just as he had been trained to be.

Draco whistled a well-practiced tune and the bird woke up nobly then ruffled his feathers and flew down to his master in one graceful _swoop_. Draco tied the letter to his leg with strict instructions to send it directly to Madame Pomfrey sitting at the teachers table and not to visit him at all when delivering the letter. The owl hooted in obedient understanding; then took off back to his perch to wait for mail time.

The Great Hall was mildly crowded by the time Draco took his seat at the Slytherin table no longer wearing the white sling that had become a distinguishing characteristic of him. He collected many curious stares, but he truly did not care as his thoughts were weighed down by something much more sinister.

Hermione Granger sat across the hall from him, her face uncharacteristically impassive. He was, at first, shocked to find her this way. Recalling his dream, his nightmare, where she was returned briefly to her regular stubborn self. He half expected her to shout over to him that he was in love with her, which was, of course, a completely preposterous idea. Him, in love with her? Never. But, needless to say, she didn't shout anything. She didn't move at all. She didn't regard his presence in the least bit. Draco fought the impulsive urge to run across the tables and prying students and rip the band off her wrist just so he could see her eyes looking at him with recognition, even if such acknowledgment was the look of loathing she always reserved especially for him.

Draco shook his head. Why was he having these thoughts? It disturbed him that Granger's loss of identity and will to fight was getting to him so. The Dark Lord had asked for "the Mudblood" specifically. It seemed some sort of sick reassurance to Voldemort that it would be the Mudblood, and not some mere Weasley, that ultimately brought Potter to him for the final battle. If this was successful, Draco would finally become a member of Lord Voldemort's court of Death Eaters. Lucius would finally be proud when his son also bore the Dark Mark.

It was in this instant of deep contemplation, that the mail arrived and Draco became aware of his surroundings. Above his head, he could hear rustling feathers growing louder as the post owls approached. The Slytherin table was not very crowded, as it was the weekend and most of Draco's housemates were still asleep. Breakfast was a slow ordeal and Draco began to wish that he had just stayed in bed and put the resolutions to the plan off until later.

As he picked up his folded cloth napkin, he watched his own eagle owl swoop over towards Madame Pomfrey. She snatched the letter from the owl and read it quickly. She looked up at Draco, noted the absence of his sling, then folded the letter up and went back to her pancakes and scrambled eggs.

Draco was too busy watching Pomfrey's reaction that he didn't see another owl stop impatiently in front of his plate with a copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in it's beak until it made an irritated hoot to capture his diverted attention.

Draco dropped a few Sickles into the leather pouch on the bird's claw and took the paper. At this moment, when he was watching the owl fly away, that he realized the Great Hall had silenced and all eyes were on him.

The Gryffindor table in particular looked livid. Potter was staring openly at Draco, his emerald eyes narrowed in speculation. Granger was looking in his general direction; her eyes blissful and ignorant. Weasley was reading the Daily Prophet hastily an expression of pure horror impressed upon his pale face.

"WHAT?!?" the fire-haired adversary shouted throwing the paper into his marmalade. The hall turned its head in unison to glare at the offending redhead. Ron seemed not to notice the attention he was drawing. "I can't believe it!"

What was the fiery tempered numbskull going on about now? Whatever it was, it had something to do with the paper. Draco picked up his copy of The Daily Prophet, and pulled at the white string that bound it. As the newspaper unrolled in his hand, his attention was once again diverted by Weasley's shouts.

"You had something to do with this, Malfoy! I know you did!" All eyes were once again on Draco. The Weasel was positively fuming at him from across the hall. Draco just stared back, not knowing what he was yelling about. This lack of response seemed only to fuel Weasley's anger, however, and he dramatically marched out of the Great Hall, slamming the oak doors and leaving stunned onlookers in his wake. Potter trailed pathetically after him.

The hall remained silent as the students turned back to Draco, apparently anticipating his response. He finished unrolling The Prophet and read the front page headline. He couldn't believe it. His eyes must be deceiving him. He read it again. He read it a third time. Draco dropped his napkin, pushed back from the Slytherin table, and moved swiftly, almost mechanically, out of the hall. Professor Snape left his seat at the staff table and followed quietly after him towards the dungeons.

Murmurs erupted all around the huge room as students returned to their normal meal-time chatting. Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, Hermione was as quiet as ever. Not saying a word, not making a sound, oblivious to the events that had just taken place around her. In front of her covered in marmalade on the polished wood table lay Ron's copy of this morning's paper. In large bold letters, its headline read,

_**Lucius Malfoy released from Azkaban on orders from Minister of Magic.**_

This was just the best cliffhanger ever to leave it at!! The next chapter will be longer, I promise, but if you don't review I will... ponders not update, okay really, I will cry and some stuff, yeah, so please... please review.


	12. Twelve: Blinding Revelations

Author's Note: I've been ordered to continue with the chapter winks at Hustler

Previously on Shadows of Light:

It was too late to turn back. The Mudblood would go to Lord Voldemort and meet her fate just as Potter would foolishly jump in to rescue her and Lucius Malfoy's unfair imprisonment would be rectified. Ever since his father had been taken to Azkaban, which were the sole faults of those meddlesome Gryffindors, Draco had dreamed of being the one to rescue him, or at least make up for it. He wanted his father to be proud of him.

Draco pulled open the chest door with a slight squeak, grabbed a quill, piece of parchment, and bottle of black ink, and then closed it with a sharp snap.

"Dear Madame Pomfrey," he narrated quietly as he wrote. The quill scratched the parchment in a loopy cursive that did not belong to Draco's hand. A half an hour later, he signed "Narcissa Malfoy," elegantly at the bottom. He read over the letter, making sure there were no mistakes.

Dear Madame Pomfrey,

My son has recently suffered an injury involving a Quidditch match where he received an aneurysm from a bludger. I was shocked and dismayed that there was nothing in the school to remedy the unfortunate situation, so I decided it was upon me to heal my son. I have made some contacts with a few highly-ranked wizards and managed to grasp the very elixir that could restore Draco's arm to perfect working condition. He has been sent the Escensio and is now able to go about with his schoolwork, I thank you for your efforts on my son, but a mother's touch is always best.

Yours, Narcissa Malfoy

Draco tied the letter to his owl's leg with strict instructions to send it directly to Madame Pomfrey sitting at the teachers table and not to visit him at all when delivering the letter. The owl hooted in obedient understanding; then took off back to his perch to wait mail time.

Hermione Granger sat across the hall from him, her face uncharacteristically impassive. Draco fought the impulsive urge to run across the tables and prying students and rip the band off her wrist just so he could see her eyes looking at him with recognition, even if such acknowledgment was the look of loathing she always reserved especially for him.

It was in this instant, that he realized the Great Hall had silenced and all eyes were on him as if reading his thoughts.

"WHAT?!?" the weasel shouted throwing his paper into the marmalade. The hall turned its head in unison to glare at the offending redhead. Ron seemed not to notice the attention he was drawing. "I can't believe it!"

"You had something to do with this, Malfoy! I know you did!" All eyes were once again on Draco. The Weasel was positively fuming at him from across the hall. Draco just stared back, not knowing what he was yelling about. This lack of response seemed only to fuel Weasley's anger, however, and he dramatically marched out of the Great Hall, slamming the oak doors and leaving stunned onlookers in his wake. Potter trailed pathetically after him.

Hermione was as quiet as ever. Not saying a word, not making a sound, oblivious to the events that had just taken place around her. In front of her on the polished wood table lay Ron's copy of this morning's paper. In large bold letters, its headline read,

Lucius Malfoy released from Azkaban on orders from Minister of Magic.

Beta Reader's Note: Don't be mad at lovely author- It's my fault this chappie is so late! I suck major ballz... but it's okay cuz they belong to Daniel Radcliffe. sigh now read on, and you had better review or else we will take even !longer! to update. Meat Puppets!

Pairing: Draco/Hermione

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16 year old girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

Summary: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

****

Shadows of Light

Chapter 12

But my dreams,

They aren't as empty,

As my conscience seems to be.

I have hours, only lonely.

My love is vengeance!

That's never free.

No one knows what it's like,

To feel these feelings,

Like I do,

And I blame you!

No one bites back as hard,

On their anger.

None of my pain and woe,

Can show through…

--The Who "Behind Blue Eyes"

The entrance hole to the Slytherin common room had no sooner closed behind Draco, who threw himself onto a hard, leather sofa by the fire, than it was opening once more to admit an ill-tempered Professor Snape.

"Professor," Draco said, trying to contain his surprise as he sat up upon the arrival of his Head of House. Snape looked quite menacing standing in the open threshold that connected the Slytherin quarters to the rest of the school. "What are you doing…?"

"Spare the courtesies Mr. Malfoy you know why I'm here," Snape spat unpleasantly, stepping into the room completely.

Draco looked down at _The Daily Prophet_ which had become extremely crumpled in his pale, clenched fist. "This?" He brandished the creased paper in Snape's face; it was more of a statement than a question.

Snape grabbed the tattered newspaper swiftly, his face set in a grim line of determination. He said nothing as he plunged his hand into the folds of his black robes, pulling out a crisp-looking letter in stark parchment addressed to Draco. He put out his hand expectant of whatever his Head of House was delivering. Snape, however, did not directly hand the envelope over to his student. He waited with the air of one who had considered the situation thoroughly and was deciding against his better judgment to deliver the message.

"I received this last night from Lucius," firelight flickered perilously on the surface of the parchment, "he entrusted me to give it to you," Snape replied tersely.

"Thank you Professor, I'll take that now," Draco replied in as strong a voice as he could muster. Malfoy's never showed emotion, and he did not show any anxiety as he reached his hand out further to claim his mail.

Still, Snape held it out of Draco's grasp. "I do hope that Lucius's release will put a stop to… certain things."

Snape's sharp gaze gave Draco the horrible feeling that his highly-esteemed professor knew exactly what was going on and his stomach lurched. Draco was suddenly given the unnerving impression that Snape was seeing into his mind and sifting through his thoughts as though Draco's innermost, secret ambitions were in front of him, displayed as plainly as the bold black letters of the headline on _The Prophet_…

"Ah, you're here, sit down." Lucius Malfoy sat in a high-backed, black chair behind an impressive desk. Only a single silver box, locked with a clasp that resembled a snake twisting itself into a knot, marred the perfection of the immaculate wooden surface. A window to Draco's left revealed the darkening winter sky outside of Malfoy Manor, and Draco watched as the snow fell down in painful droves upon the grounds before turning his attention to his waiting father.

Draco sent his father a guarded look as he took the lavish chair opposite the desk. "Was there something you needed father?" he asked quietly.

"I need an assurance from you, Draco." Lucius looked lazily but piercingly into his son's wary gray eyes, the slightest trace of a smirk on his pale face.

"What do you ask of me?" Draco's voice was hardly audible, but Lucius caught his every trembling word; his lips curled.

"It has come to me to tell you this: the Dark Lord has, indeed, risen."

Something unnervingly like panic quavered in Draco's stomach. It was so much easier to believe that Potter was a dirty, stinking liar starved for attention than it was to believe that Lord Voldemort, the creature who could send his own fearless father to his knees, was returned to full strength. But Harry Potter, Draco had to begrudgingly admit to himself, though a blind, dim-witted twit when it came to choosing his company was anything but a liar. Draco was aware that Lord Voldemort had returned long before Lucius Malfoy confirmed the fact, but had been trying to ignore the truth that he knew would change his fate forever. Before Draco was given the opportunity to respond, Lucius was speaking once more.

"You realize, naturally, that no one can realize that you are aware of the return of Lord Voldemort, you are to act to the contrary. You must deny all knowledge you may possess of the subject and must act in accordance to guidelines soon to be in place for you and your fellow students. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will be starting up an Inquisitorial Squad at Hogwarts this semester. This is a group of students who are very… supportive of the Ministry of Magic and it would be quite prudent of you to join."

"Yes, father," Draco muttered habitually. Believing the conference to be over, he shifted as if to rise from his seat.

"There is one more thing." Draco grew still; he was becoming restless, however he looked unwaveringly into the cold eyes of his father with practiced, insincere interest.

"You know that I am in service of the dark lord, son. I want it understood that should something happen to me…" he took a moment to sneer in a manner that suggested that the idea of anything bad happening to Lucius Malfoy was laughable before continuing, "The Dark Lord wants you to finish my work."

Draco had no idea what his father had meant, Lucius was making less and less sense. What could Draco possibly do? He wasn't a Death Eater. Draco did not dare express his confusion, with his words nor with his gray unaffected gaze, when his father continued.

"I have just been assigned to a task in which I know you will be interested in. I am to bring Potter and his Mudblood friend to Lord Voldemort. Needless to say, I will succeed marvelously. Still, my lord wishes me to give this to you as a precaution. He knows more than I will ever dare question, and I need not ask you to show the same reverence to your own superiors."

Lucius pushed the silver box towards his son. "Inside this box contains the Bands of Bovioria. The dark lord wants Harry Potter to approach their final duel of his own freewill. Therefore, using it on the Mudblood as bait will fit his wishes nicely."

Draco nodded to his father with a slight smirk, and took the silver box. Lucius picked up a quill and removed a roll of parchment from behind his desk. Without looking up he dismissed Draco. "Go to your room and get ready for supper, I want you to have a good meal before you go back to school tomorrow."

Draco had nearly reached the door of the office when he heard his father's voice for what would be the last time in a long time.

"Oh, and I would put that on my wrist now, Draco, just in case…"

Before Draco could stir from his reverie, Snape thrust the letter gruffly into his still outstretched arms and left the common room in a quiet rage. Had he seen...?

It was true; Lucius Malfoy had given Draco the Bands of Bovioria that day. Draco had attached it to his wrist that night, said the incantation, taken the Drought of Ditoritius and proclaimed himself master of the bands. He had slipped the Elixir of Escensio that would cure the aneurysm he was to create for himself and the second Drought of Ditoritius into his trunk the following morning, before boarding the Hogwarts Express back to Hogwarts to finish out the remainder of his 5th year term.

He had not been aware of his Head of Houses departure until he felt the hard parchment of the letter poking into the arm of his robes. He looked down at the letter in his grasp. Draco's own name stared back at him inscribed in his father's strict print. It made sense that Lucius had sent the letter to Snape instead of directly to his son. It would be more likely than not that a letter from Lucius Malfoy to his son would be intercepted by the Ministry. Although, clearly Lucius had more ties at the Ministry than Draco had ever thought possible, if Cornelius Fudge had been the one to release him. At least by sending the letter to Snape, he knew that it would safely get to his son unread by prying eyes.

Draco tore open the envelope and unfolded the parchment inside. The message was clipped and concise:

Draco,

By the time this will have reached you, I will be out of Azkaban. Cornelius has just had his rounds of the prisoners and I think I have convinced him that I am guiltless and should be released immediately. The dementors whisper of revolt, it will not be long before they join their rightful master. Your mother has informed me that you have taken the proceedings of my own plan into action. I will be at Hogs Head in Hogsmeade this coming Saturday, if I'm not mistaken; you have a Hogsmeade trip scheduled for that day? I want you to be there at seven o'clock sharp to further discuss the plan. Do not disappoint me son.

Lucius

This had been Lucius's task originally, regardless of how Draco had grown somewhat attached to the power he had over Granger. It would be Lucius who completed the final stages of the task, or at least he who took the credit for it. It was true, Lucius had failed once when delivering Potter to the dark lord, but would he fail again? Draco knew his father and such ambition could not be thwarted twice. Lucius Malfoy would not fail to take prisoner Hermione Granger, or Potter for that matter. Draco hurled the letter into the fire and watched the morose flames lick it to ashes.

Draco thought vaguely of the short, clipped words smoldering in the hearth. There had been no words of pride at Draco's success in controlling Hermione, no happiness in being able to contact his only son after spending six consecutive months in prison. No warmth was to be expected from Lucius Malfoy, not even to his son. Draco's anger flared, how could he have ever expected anything but cruel indifference from his father? He was a fool! A damned fool!

And Hermione… he let her slip away because of this. Was it really worth it? This nagging pain in the pit of his stomach… this sad… lonely feeling… was all of this worth making his father happy?

A frown marred the pleasant features of Draco Malfoy's face. "OH Draco!" Pansy Parkinson had just entered the common room and, upon seeing him, sauntered over, hiking up her grey skirt slightly to expose more of her pudgy thighs. "I simply _knew_ your father was innocent. I can't believe that horrible Dumbledore was- Where are you going?" But, Draco was already descending the cold, stone stairs to the boy's dormitory, leaving a confused Pansy Parkinson in his frosty wake.

The proceeding week seemed to pass in a blurry haze of pumpkins and pastries. Draco seemed to neither notice nor care that Halloween had slipped by him this year as all of his thought was bent on the single outcome of this pending meeting with his father.

On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Draco being too wrapped up in his own dismal thoughts, did not notice the prolonged absence of Hermione or the worried and enraged expressions Potter and Weasley were throwing him. He did not acknowledge how Pansy Parkinson had avoided him all week in resentment. He realized the thriving world around him only when he stepped onto the wintry grounds of Hogwarts and was hit full in the face with a stinging, icy wind.

Hogsmeade filled instantly with students from Hogwarts; some running into the Three Broomsticks for a familiar butter beer, others dashing into their favorite shops. Crabbe and Goyle moved surprisingly swiftly, for their stature, into Honeydukes without a backward glance. Draco slunk away from the cheerful chattering students to the outskirts of the small town, where his favorite place lay. The Shrieking Shack no longer held its luster for the other students, with heads too full of the fast-approaching holidays, but Draco made a point to go up that hill to that lonely shack and look upon it. Some days he wondered why it was still feared by the students and townsfolk when it had long ago quieted. Other times, he reflected upon his own lonely life. It was a place where he could think undisturbed.

Draco looked around at his surroundings. The wood was moldy and cracked with age and moisture. The smell of mildew overpowered his nostrils as he stepped under the overhanging roof of the front doorway. Through the boarded window, a sliver of light escaped into the dilapidated hut's hollow entryway and Draco could just make out a dusty staircase leading up into foreboding darkness. Draco wondered what his father would have to say about his son choosing to spend his free time hanging around a decrepit place like this. It was probably even worse than Azkaban, and Lucius would undoubtedly wretch at the idea of Draco actually being there on his own free will. But what's another disappointment? It seemed nothing he did could ever spark the least bit of pride or gratitude from his father... but perhaps...

Perhaps, Lucius Malfoy was proud of his son and he just didn't show it in the letter. Perhaps when he met his father later that day, he would be awarded with praise and kinder words. Perhaps Draco was being silly for wishing for something his father could never give. One thing was certain, Draco would never know until he faced his father and saw for himself.

All too quickly, it was half past six in the evening and Draco was trudging down the slope that led back to the city. He walked past bustling students who were hurrying to finish their shopping and ducked out of the line of vision of his dimwitted cronies who were stuffing their faces with cauldron cakes and custard creams as they shoved their way through the crowd. The last thing Draco needed at this moment was those two trailing him when he had such important business to attend to. He could always just tell them to go away, but he really just did not want to be bothered.

The wind was picking up and when he arrived at his destination, the sign was swinging overhead with a rather grotesque image of the severed head of a boar. Draco opened the door and before he could have much of a look around, the bartender, a dingy sort of man, hurried over to Draco in the doorway. "Are you Mr. Malfoy?" he inquired.

"That depends," Draco replied looking skeptically at the dirty man.

"He said you'd say that, follow me." And before Draco could protest, he was being led across the grimy floor and into the darkest corner of the pub. It wasn't until Draco was right at the table, that he saw another figure sitting there. A feeling of dread was settling itself in his stomach as if he had done something horribly wrong and was about to be reprimanded for his actions.

He nodded politely to the filthy bartender and took the seat opposite the cloaked figure. For a moment, they sat in silence. Draco could feel anger and fear wrestling each other in the pit of his stomach. The cloaked man leaned in towards Draco removing the hood that obscured his pale face. Draco felt the lump swell in his throat, but he suppressed it, and with an expression as guarded as stone, he regarded the man who was his father.

Lucius's once handsome features were now thin. His skin seemed stretch over his high cheekbones. Large black bags had accumulated under his eyes, which no longer held the gleam of supremacy they once bestowed.

The silence was deafening. "Hello, father," Draco muttered in as strong a voice as he could muster.

"Who are you?" For a moment Draco simply stared at the contemptible excuse of a father in astonishment, not fully understanding the question, "for my son would never address me in such a quivering voice."

For a moment, words seemed to fail the young Slytherin. He opened his mouth to defend his pride against this man who dare refer to Draco as anything less than perfectly capable and strong. Draco was the one who sat there in full form after successfully completing all tasks assigned. Draco's features glowed handsomely in the flickering light of the flaming lamps that scarcely adorned the walls of the pub, and this man was nothing in comparison. His skin was sallow and he looked malnourished. His posture was not exactly admirable, and his hair, once smooth and combed to perfection, was now broken and fell unkemptly around his stubbly face. Only his voice held the same luster of superiority, and even that sounded hoarse and scratchy from lack of use. Draco could not find the words to defend himself; he could only gape in shock and building rage. Sitting before Draco was the man for whom he'd sacrificed the only thing he loved. Before him, he could see his future. Dark, sallow circles shadowed this man's lifeless, but no less malevolent eyes as he indulged in the only pleasure of his pathetic life; making the life of his son a miserable one. If Draco continued down the path of Darkness that had been laid out for him, this was where he was headed. Looking again into the cold, seething eyes of his father, he decided that now was the time for him to find a different path, his own path.

"Well?" Lucius snapped sounding more the part of the arrogant aristocrat than he looked.

Draco cleared his throat and looked unflinchingly into the cold, steely eyes of his father. "The filthy air in this deplorable hut was suffocating me when I greeted you, father."

Lucius stared at his son for a moment longer as if contemplating the validity of his statement. "That's much better. Now my son, tell me, what have you done in accordance to the plan I was assigned?"

The plan he was assigned? But it was Draco who had then been instructed to carry it out. Draco was right, he would never get any of the credit for his work. Draco did not hasten to reply but instead studied the man before him. How was it that Draco Malfoy, highly prestigious, well-respected Draco Malfoy, had suffered so long at the hands of such a loathsome person? Lucius Malfoy was no longer the immaculate lord that commanded respect from those around him, but the very cowardly, dilapidated person who still had the audacity to sneer at his only son.

Draco's eyes began to sting, as if the sight of Lucius in less than his grandest splendor hurt them, and he realized he had to look away. He rested his gaze instead on the dusty window that overlooked the small town. Snow had started falling and was circling mystically outside the smoke-stained window pane. For a moment Draco watched the swirling snow in distraction. He was just about to tear his eyes from the flurry of snow when providence cast a shadow upon the reunion of father and son. Hermione Granger was standing outside the window looking in at Draco with an almost sad expression on her blank, vacant face.

Her eyes seemed to plead with him as he stared into her face through the streaked window. He didn't want to blink in case she disappeared when his eyes reopened. The snow landed on her bushy hair and long black eyelashes. Her soft brown eyes looked at him with an almost urgent intensity… almost. Her face still held a disturbing vacancy that Draco couldn't seem to shake out of his conscience.

"Ah, she knows her master. I trust the Bands of Bovioria have been administered…" Lucius had followed his son's rapt gaze to Hermione standing outside the window then turned to face Draco once more. Not long after, a hand appeared on Hermione's shoulder and she vanished from Draco's sight followed by a swish of billowing black robes and a flash of red hair against the soft white snow. Draco continued to gaze longingly at the spot upon which she had stood.

"What's this I see?" Lucius drawled in a dangerously quiet voice. "Is my only son in love with a Mudblood?"

Draco snapped back to attention mentally kicking himself for lowering his guard. "What do you mean father? Malfoy's are incapable of love," he replied suavely.

"Are you lying to me?" Draco didn't want to think about the answer to that question.

"No, father."

"Yes you are," he hissed. Suddenly, Lucius seemed every bit as intimidating and powerful as he was before. Draco could feel resentment begin to rise once more with a vehement intensity.

"No I'm not! I'm not in love with Hermione!" Perhaps if he denied it fervently enough, it wouldn't be true.

"Ah, _Hermione_ now, is it?" Lucius peered threateningly at Draco lowering his voice to a threatening whisper, speaking slowly so that Draco caught his every menacing word. "No son of mine is going to love a Mudblood, I will make sure of it, do you understand me?"

Draco could feel an anger such as never he had felt before simmering underneath his cool demeanor. "Don't you lecture me about love, father, when you never loved me like a father should!"

"Love is for the weak."

"Then I am weak!" Draco's voice had risen and several people were looking at him in curiosity.

"Lower your voice!" Lucius snarled, making to grab his son's arm.

"No! All I have ever been to you is a link in the perfection of the Malfoy Pureblood legacy, a pawn that would help you capture and torture Mudbloods for your own sick pleasure. I have never defied you, and have done always what you asked, and have gotten nothing in return. I have done everything to make you proud of me, but you have never shown me such pride. I have sacrificed what little happiness I could have had to carry out your plan! And what for? So you can take the credit and I can be left to wish I never had a father? I'm not your minion, I'm your son."

"Be silent!" Lucius was standing too; his face was very pink.

Draco felt a tremor of fear rip through him, but quickly stifled it. When he spoke, it was in a much calmer, but no less strong voice, "I see now, that I made a terrible mistake."

Before Lucius could speak another word, Draco said nothing more but turned and left the Hog's Head passing by the carriages which would take him back up to school. Instead he moved quickly on foot and he was holding back the tears which once again burned his eyes, threatening to fall, as he made his way to the wrought iron gates of Hogwarts in the dark, snow-laden night.

By the time Draco had reached the grounds, he was bathed in luminescent moonlight and it was well after hours. Had Draco been less preoccupied with his rebellious thoughts, he might have noticed that he was not alone on the eerily lit lawns. The _crunch_ of footsteps on the snow alerted him to another presence. Instinctively, Draco stepped back into the welcoming shadows of the Forbidden Forrest concealing himself from view.

The lighting was just enough for Draco to decipher two shadowy outlines on the edge of the lake. One figure seemed to be guiding the other much smaller figure into the ghastly light of the full moon. The falling snow made it impossible for Draco to recognize the two figures on the lawn, but not even the twirling snow around him could hide the fact that the larger person was forcing the smaller person to drink something in a moonlit clearing near the lake.

A chill shot down Draco's spine as he was reminded forcibly of the time he had led Hermione Granger, kicking and screaming, into the full moon and made her drink the Draught of Ditoritius forcing her into unwilling, mindless servitude. The moonlight illuminated the bright blue contents of the vial which was behind tipped upward and down the small person's throat. They, however, did not seem to protest. His heart began to pound in his chest; perhaps it was someone else attempting follow Draco's dreadful example!

Before he could stop himself, he was sprinting across the resplendent frost-covered lawns. He had to stop whatever evil was about to take place. Lucius would likely have already arranged plans to overcome his son's decision not to participate in the evil doings of Lord Voldemort, and sending in another, more obedient, Slytherin to do his dirty work would not be hard. He could not sit idly by and watch the plan further unfold even after his abandonment of it. Lucius had to be stopped. It all had to be stopped, and it was up to him to stop it.

The outlines of the two became clearer as Draco neared. The taller seemed to have noticed Draco's fast approaching. The person swiveled on their heel and stalked towards the castle. Draco saw the other, which looked more like a female; begin to sway on unsteady feet. His pace quickened.

A stitch was smarting in his side, but his feet kept moving, one in front of the other, in rapid succession. It was definitely a girl and she was definitely about to fall. Her hand held her head as if she had a splitting headache and her slender form seemed to be shaking, trying to draw in as much breath as it could. The girl was leaning dangerously close to the lake, her mind seeming not to register the icy peril that eagerly waited to welcome her.

With a jolt, Draco recognized the mysterious swaying girl. There was no mistaking that bushy hair or that frail stature! Draco arrived just in time to push Hermione unceremoniously to the frost-bitten ground, collapsing over top of her.

Hermione screamed. Draco's ears welcomed the unfamiliar sound. "Malfoy!" Hermione pushed against his firm torso squirming underneath the weight of his body. It was then that Draco noticed the compromising position he had placed her in. Her conservative black robes were splayed open revealing the scarlet sweater she was wearing underneath and the plaid skirt that dropped just above her knees was hitched up around her thighs revealing light pink knickers. Draco's knee had stopped between her legs forcing them open and his hands came down on either side of her shoulders. A sudden, almost painful urge engulfed him.

He wanted to kiss her softly and hold her close to him. He wanted to explain to her that he was somehow changed from the Malfoy who had done this to her. He wanted to apologize for everything _that_ Malfoy had done to hurt her. He wanted to make it up to her. But most of all, he wanted to love her with the heart his Malfoy heritage had deprived him of.

Hermione's heart hammered against her ribs. She did not realize that she had stopped struggling or that she was pinned to an ice-laden lawn in the dead of winter. Her mind was racing, registering only one thing. "Draco!" Time seemed to have stopped as they stared in each other's eyes. Hermione realized with a thrill that there was much more in Draco's eyes, sadness, regret, and something she couldn't quite place. Their robes were drenched and the icy wind beat at their faces.

Slowly and respectfully, Draco lifted himself out of her proximity and began to wipe the snow and dirt off of his robes. He held his hand to help her up and Hermione took it closing her robes against the bitter breeze. She shivered and took in her surroundings. This night was different. She was not tired from running, but numb from lack of it. The grounds were not crisp and clear but white and mystic. "Oh my god." She sat down in the powdery snow, forgetting the biting cold.

Draco felt a strange happiness overcome him. He wanted to touch her, to comfort her, to explain to her what had happened. "Hermione… I…I want you to understand that I…" Draco grabbed her arm to help her up.

"Don't touch me, Malfoy!" Hermione screamed suddenly jerking her arm out of Draco's grasp and scrambling to her feet.

"Hermione, please!"

"I suppose my task is complete!" she shrieked.

"That's not…"

"I'm surprised you didn't just kill me when you were finished with me, but I guess that would just be too messy, wouldn't it? Lord Voldemort wouldn't want his secret Death Eaters to be discovered now, would he?"

"I'm not a Death Eater, Hermione, hear me out—"

"I understand now." She spoke softly, in a slow, sad voice. "I was nothing to you, nothing but a pawn."

Draco shook his head, unnerved at the sound of his own words coming out of her mouth. He reached out to her in a futile attempt to make her understand.

"Get away from me!" Hermione spat furiously, hot tears streaming down her red cheeks. I knew it; all along I knew there was nothing between us. You know, I tried so hard not to fall in love with you, because I knew that you could never love me!"

"Hermione, please…"

"No! I won't be a part of this! Just leave me alone, Malfoy!"

Before Draco could respond, she was sprinting up the lawns her robes swishing along behind her.

"I wish you knew," he whispered, how much I care about you." Resigned to the bitter cold, he slowly trudged up after her wishing she would give him a chance to explain.

Author's Note: Okay, I know that took forever and a day to post, but I did it. I was getting my revenge on those of you who didn't review wink wink


	13. Thirteen: Obvious Mysteries

**Author's Note**: Okay, okay, I know you have a lot of questions, settle down you'll have them answered, please be patient with me; I'm only one person. I know this is a really late update. Anyway, I actually had a reviewer tell me that she spent her homework time reading my story instead… guys, do your homework! You'll have plenty of time to read the story, especially since it takes me ages to update! Someone addressed the _Previously__ On…_ It's more of a waste of copying and pasting, than typing; besides updates are few and far between, and the _previously's_ tend to help the reader's remember what happened in the last chapter. Someone also remarked on my spacing, I liked it wide too, but I had so many complaints, I just changed it. A lot of you were confused about the person that released Hermione from the spell. This character is to remain ambiguous throughout the story. Through subtle hints this character is revealed, but not directly. Most of you have guessed at the identity of this person, but I will say no more on it.

**Previously on Shadows of Light:**

_Snape's__ sharp gaze gave Draco the horrible feeling that his highly-esteemed professor knew exactly what was going on and his stomach lurched. Draco was suddenly given the unnerving impression that Snape was seeing into his mind and sifting through his thoughts as though Draco's innermost, secret ambitions were in front of him, displayed as plainly as the bold black letters of the headline on The Prophet…_

"I have just been assigned to a task in which I know you will be interested in. I am to bring Potter and his Mudblood friend to Lord Voldemort. Needless to say, I will succeed marvelously. Still, my lord wishes me to give this to you as a precaution. He knows more than I will ever dare question, and I need not ask you to show the same reverence to your own superiors."

Lucius pushed the silver box towards his son. "Inside this box contains the Bands of Bovioria. The dark lord wants Harry Potter to approach their final duel of his own freewill. Therefore, using it on the Mudblood as bait will fit his wishes nicely."

_Before Draco could stir from his reverie, Snape thrust the letter gruffly into his still outstretched arms and left the common room in a quiet rage. Had he seen...?_

_He nodded politely to the filthy bartender and took the seat opposite the cloaked figure. For a moment, they sat in silence. Draco could feel anger and fear wrestling each other in the pit of his stomach. The cloaked man leaned in towards Draco removing the hood that obscured his pale face. Draco felt the lump swell in his throat, but he suppressed it, and with an expression as guarded as stone, he regarded the man who was his father. _

_"Now my son, tell me, what have you done in accordance to the plan I was assigned?"_

_Draco's__ eyes began to sting, as if the sight of Lucius in less than his grandest splendor hurt them, and he realized he had to look away. He rested his gaze instead on the dusty window that overlooked the small town. Snow had started falling and was circling mystically outside the smoke-stained window pane. For a moment Draco watched the swirling snow in distraction. He was just about to tear his eyes from the flurry of snow when providence cast a shadow upon the reunion of father and son. Hermione Granger was standing outside the window looking in at Draco with an almost sad expression on her blank, vacant face._

_"Ah, she knows her master. I trust the Bands of Bovioria have been administered…" Lucius had followed his son's rapt gaze to Hermione standing outside the window then turned to face Draco once more._

_"What's this I see?" Lucius drawled in a dangerously quiet voice. "Is my only son in love with a Mudblood?"_

_"No I'm not! I'm not in love with Hermione!" Perhaps if he denied it fervently enough, it wouldn't be true._

_"Love is for the weak."_

_"Then I am weak!" Draco's voice had risen and several people were looking at him in curiosity._

_"Lower your voice!" Lucius snarled, making to grab his son's arm._

_"No! All I have ever been to you is a link in the perfection of the Malfoy Pureblood legacy, a pawn that would help you capture and torture Mudbloods for your own sick pleasure. I have never defied you, and have done always what you asked, and have gotten nothing in return. I have done everything to make you proud of me, but you have never shown me such pride. I have sacrificed what little happiness I could have had to carry out your plan! And what for? So you can take the credit and I can be left to wish I never had a father? I'm not your minion, I'm your son."_

_"Be silent!" Lucius was standing too; his face was very pink._

_Draco__ felt a tremor of fear rip through him, but quickly stifled it. When he spoke, it was in a much calmer, but no less strong voice, "I see now, that I made a terrible mistake."_

_Before Lucius could speak another word, Draco said nothing more but turned and left the Hog's Head passing by the carriages which would take him back up to school. Instead he moved quickly on foot and he was holding back the tears which once again burned his eyes, threatening to fall, as he made his way to the wrought iron gates of Hogwarts in the dark, snow-laden night._

_By the time Draco had reached the grounds, he was bathed in luminescent moonlight and it was well after hours. Had Draco been less preoccupied with his rebellious thoughts, he might have noticed that he was not alone on the eerily lit lawns. The crunch of footsteps on the snow alerted him to another presence. Instinctively, Draco stepped back into the welcoming shadows of the Forbidden Forrest concealing himself from view._

_A chill shot down Draco's spine as he was reminded forcibly of the time he had led Hermione Granger, kicking and screaming, into the full moon and made her drink the Draught of Ditoritius forcing her into unwilling, mindless servitude. The moonlight illuminated the bright blue contents of the vial which was behind tipped upward and down the small person's throat. They, however, did not seem to protest. His heart began to pound in his chest; perhaps it was someone else attempting follow Draco's dreadful example!_

_Before he could stop himself, he was sprinting across the resplendent frost-covered lawns. He had to stop whatever evil was about to take place. _

_The outlines of the two became clearer as Draco neared. The taller seemed to have noticed Draco's fast approaching. It swiveled on its heel and stalked towards the castle. Draco saw the other, which looked more like a female; begin to sway on unsteady feet._

_With a jolt, Draco recognized the mysterious swaying girl. There was no mistaking that bushy hair or that frail stature! Draco arrived just in time to push Hermione unceremoniously to the frost-bitten ground, collapsing over top of her._

_Hermione screamed. "Malfoy!"_

_Draco__ felt a strange happiness overcome him. His crazy desire to see Hermione come back to herself, however, was not sated. "Hermione… I…"_

_"Get away from me, Malfoy!" Hermione screamed jerking her arm out of Draco's grasp and scrambling to her feet._

_"Hermione, please!"_

_"I suppose my task is complete!" she shrieked._

_"That's not…"_

_"I'm surprised you didn't just kill me when you were finished with me, but I guess that would just be too messy, wouldn't it? Lord Voldemort wouldn't want his secret Death Eaters to be discovered now, would he?"_

_"I'm not a Death Eater, Hermione, hear me out—"_

_"Get away from me!" Hermione spat furiously, hot tears streaming down her red cheeks. I knew it; all along I knew there was nothing between us. You know, I tried so hard not to fall in love with you, because I knew that you could never love me!"_

_Before Draco could respond, she was sprinting up the lawns her robes swishing along behind her._

_"I wish you knew," he whispered, "how much I care about you." Resigned to the bitter cold, he slowly trudged up after her wishing she would give him a chance to explain._

**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione

**Rating**: PG-13

**Disclaimer**: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, than Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16 year old girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

**Summary:** Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

**Shadows of Light**

Chapter 13

The shower had long gone cold but the icy droplets of water stung her face, but it assured her that she was once again able to feel. She had never appreciated the privilege of feeling. Now that she was released from the spell which had so long kept her captive and numb, Hermione savored every nerve in her body. A dull throb had formed under her tired feet, and Hermione was sure it was almost time for her classmates to wake, but she didn't care.

She was not as angry for her imprisonment as she was grateful for her release. How strange it seemed to feel her heart beating in her chest, almost as if she was feeling her pulse for the first time.

A red line still burned at her wrist despite the arctic water pummeling it from the shower-head. The band was gone, but it had left its mark. Malfoy was out of her head, and now all she could hear of his biting comments were distant echoes in her mind. It seemed like an eternity since that fateful night when she first realized he had done something to her. She had been in this very bathroom, brushing her teeth when she first heard his malicious voice in her head. Now that all felt like a distant memory, like an entire lifetime that she couldn't quite recall had passed between then and now, but it also seemed like an instant. It was as if she had just awoken from a dream, one that might slip away from her in a moment if she didn't hold onto as many details as she could grasp.

What had she done? It was fading quickly. She could faintly see a window and Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban. _Was _Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban? She hadn't really been able to note the events during her imprisonment. What if he had escaped? Would Draco really make her do something horrible to Harry? With Lucius out of Azkaban the chances were more likely than not. However, she would not let that happen... unless it already had.

She had tried to fight back once. She had tried to use every last bit of strength in her mind to get to him, to overpower him, and had almost succeeded. He was so strong-minded, and under the spell she was so weak, so she was only able to reach him when he was completely off-guard. It was only in a dream, but it was something. She had come to herself, if only for an instant. She had told him something…what had she told him? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember what he said back to her… but she could remember his face when he first looked at her. It was as if he was seeing her clearly for the first time. His mouth formed around a word… her name. She couldn't recall anything after that... the effort of breaking into his mind and trying to use her own had taken all of her energy, and it was all she could do to build it back up.

The events of the past few... days? weeks? months? Hermione did not know for how long she had been imprisoned in her own mind ...were hazy and ran together in a blur of worried faces of her friends and commanding words from Malfoy. He had taken over her body and taken away her free will. It almost made her sick to think of what had been taken away from her, but she had to ignore that and try to right whatever wrongs she had committed under the spell.

Hermione stepped out of the shower quickly and dried herself off. Quickly pulling on her robes, she rushed out of the Prefect's bathroom and made her solitary way to the Gryffindor tower.

The fat lady was snoring in her frame when Hermione approached. She tapped the portrait lightly and whispered the old password, "Mandragora," hoping it hadn't changed. It hadn't. With a particularly loud snore, the portrait opened admitting a relieved Hermione to the common room.

In the hearth, all that remained of the night's fire were ashes and dying cinders. Spare bits of parchment and decks of Exploding Snap cards littered the tables from the evening before. Through the tower windows, Hermione could see the golden glow of the sun on the horizon, but she didn't stop to look. Quickly and silently, she made her way up the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories.

She half-expected to find Harry's bed empty, missing from the room, lost in the oblivion of Voldemort's clutches. She half-expected to find the floor littered with newspapers displaying grave headlines about mysterious disappearances and terrible happenings, and four boys tossing and turning in restless sleeps filled with haunting nightmares. Instead, she found five calmly sleeping boys, Harry amongst them. She sighed as she watched him roll over in his sleep. He seemed to be less at ease than his dorm-mates, and Hermione could only guess at what was going on in his troubled mind.

Hermione, though relieved that Harry and Ron were alright, was still not satisfied. Suppose Draco had made her do something that wouldn't seem obvious at first A thrill of horror shot up her spine as she had a particularly terrible thought. Had she taken their freewill, as Draco had taken hers? Had she herself only been released because her deed was done, leaving her friends vulnerable to the ultimate harm?

Harry turned fitfully to face her, his eyes closed tightly. Hermione decided it would be better to wait until later in the morning to find out; it would be a slightly uncomfortable to have to explain to Harry and Ron why she had been lurking around in their dormitory before dawn. She turned and headed out, hoping that they would not find her in their dormitory and bombard her with those unnerving questions of her presence. She didn't know what she would do if they emerged upon waking, only to speak in monotones and wear the same blank expression that she imagined she must have worn during her imprisonment.

When she got to the door, she fared one last glance towards her best friends. For a wild moment, she thought she could see the green of Harry's eyes looking at her from his four poster.

"Hermione?" It was only a whisper, but it was enough. Hermione turned on her heel and ran out of the dormitory, darted down the boys' staircase, raced through the common room, and climbed out through the portrait hole into the corridor.

The castle was bright. The torches were lit. Through the high window, Hermione could make out a pink and gold skyline. For a moment, she stood, entranced, before she heard a light footstep behind her. Hermione knew she had to get out of that corridor, find somewhere deserted, but before she could turn, before she could move, a hand was on her shoulder. She swiveled around to find herself face-to-face with none other than Professor Snape.

"Isn't it a little early to be causing trouble, Miss Granger?" he asked in a quiet, ominous voice, his eyes bearing down on her from beneath his burrowed brow.

"I…I…I'm sorry Professor Snape," Hermione muttered. Without another word, she nodded to Snape and left him standing in the middle of the corridor. Before she knew where she was going, she had arrived at the library, as if her mind was no longer in charge of her actions, but her body through mere habit.

The panic she had been feeling since she had regained her freewill began to recede. The library always tended to have a calming effect on her frazzled nerves. Cool logic began to wash over her, and for the first time in four weeks, she felt like herself. In a small nook she could see the refreshing sight of fifth year Ravenclaw studying. She remembered settling herself in that very spot the year before when she was studying for the O.W.L.'s. She had color-coded her notes, yellow for simple questions, green for medium, blue for hard, and red for very hard. She found herself smiling at the memory. It was reviving to remember but even more so to smile. Suddenly, a thought that rejuvenated the old Hermione more than anything else jumped to mind…schoolwork! She probably hadn't gotten a thing done during her span of unintelligible obedience! She must be behind in all of her work!

Before Hermione knew it, she was racing up to the Gryffindor tower, shouting the password and stumbling up the steep stairs to the girl's dormitory. Hermione grabbed her books and rushed back down to the common room. While she was scribbling furiously, biting her lip in concentration, and flipping pages with such fervor that she actually ripped a few right out of the spine, a very confused Harry and Ron were standing in bottom of the boys' staircase, blinking uncomprehendingly at the sight of their friend working in a way that they had not seen in so long.

It had been over a month since her release. Christmas was fast-approaching. Hermione had been extremely relieved to find nothing wrong with either of her friends. They seemed perfectly capable of forming their own thoughts, and even asked her what in the world she was doing when she ripped back their sleeves to reveal their naked wrists. She had responded simply by letting out sighs of relief and walking away, leaving them even more puzzled. She was thoroughly distraught to find out, however, that Lucius Malfoy had in fact been released from Azkaban. Ron had been ranting about it at breakfast on her first morning back to herself, but Hermione knew better than to ask for details. She just nodded in agreement as if she had known all along.

She could not blame Harry for treating her with wary amity, even after she had promised she had only been feeling sick and that nothing serious had been wrong with her over her brief lapse of person. Often times while they were in the common room immersed in homework, Hermione could feel his eyes upon her, studying her in the pretense of reading. It was true; Harry's guard was up around Hermione. He was friendly enough, but he was suspicious of her.

Well, if Harry thought Hermione was under some sort of spell from Voldemort and was going to betray him, he was sorely mistaken. Though for a while, he might have been entirely correct, Hermione was almost positive that she had caused no harm during her time under the _Bovioria_, but it was still a mystery.

Anyway, if her friends didn't trust her because of her lapse in character over those fateful few weeks, it was Draco's fault. Hermione didn't fully understand his actions. He was the snarling git she had always hated, but there was more to him. Somehow, he had opened himself up to her in keeping so closed up.

Hermione was good at figuring things out; she had done it for six years. But Draco Malfoy was a puzzle. The first piece of the puzzle was his deliberate rendering of his arm to be useless, so that she would be forced to spend time with him. It was fairly evident that Draco needed Hermione for some sinister plot to avenge Harry. Snape's intervention made it impossible for Hermione to avoid becoming Malfoy's guinea pig, not that she knew it at the time.

Malfoy's rescuing her from the squid; she supposed that must have been set up as well, as the squid was entirely docile. That was entirely pointless, unless Draco wanted to look like some sort of hero, gain everyone's trust in a humble sort of way. No finger would point towards Malfoy, the great savior of Hermione Mudblood Granger, should anything horrible happen to her. It was ingenious in its simplicity, really.

Perhaps Hermione would not think so lowly of Draco, had it not been for the Band of Bovioria. She should have figured it out earlier when he rescued her from the squid that he was planning something, that he would go through with it at all costs; and he did. Hermione remembered nothing after the Bovioria took her, the proceeding weeks of her life blissfully blank, like a dream she could no longer grasp. But she realized that she was not herself during that time. Harry and Ron came to regard her with skepticism, almost fear. She did not know how different she had become. Many people seemed not to notice her odd behavior, for which she was grateful, but her best friends no longer knew her, even though she had returned to normalcy. Hermione vowed that somehow, someway, she would explain it to them, but first she needed to understand the situation herself.

It was this that puzzled Hermione most of all. All of the pieces fit together except the last one. Why on earth did Draco release Hermione from his control? He had it all. Hermione was under his power, he could do with her what he wanted and no one would suspect him, why then, did he give it all up? What happened to him that would turn his thoughts so completely around? Surely guilt was not strong enough for him to take such drastic measures…there was only one emotion that had that sort of power. No, she shook her head, something else must have changed his mind, and Hermione was going to find out what it was.

"Harry."

Harry turned to face who had spoken to him, his green eyes resting on Hermione. "Er… hey Hermione, what's up?"

"I need to talk to you and Ron. I know I've been acting a bit strange over the past few weeks…" She could see Draco's face, even though he was no where around, she shook her head and continued, "I just thought you might like some answers, and I know exactly who to ask."

It was the last weekend before Christmas break and a Hogsmeade trip had been scheduled. The students were all dressed up in their cloaks and shawls, ready to go Christmas shopping for the upcoming holidays or into the Three Broomsticks for a nice hot Butterbeer to celebrate the end of term.

Hogsmeade, as always, looked like a Christmas card in the snow. The small cozy stores looked almost like gingerbread houses and the people rushing from store to store seemed to add to the pleasant Christmas feeling in the air. However, not everyone was enjoying the holiday excitement.

The Shrieking Shack was a small way from the bustling town of Hogsmeade and that was the way Draco preferred it. He came up there to think while the other students got caught up in the hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade. It was oddly peaceful at the Shrieking Shack.

He noticed that Hermione had adjusted easily back into her life. It seemed that Potter and Wealey were more dim-witted than Draco thought, because they seemed not to notice her change in personality over the short space of time. Draco wondered how anybody could be that unobservant. Of course, there wasn't much about Hermione Granger that Draco _hadn't _noticed. The way she laughed when something amused her, how she would throw her head back and let out a loud appreciative chuckle. Or the way her eyes lit up when she read something she found interesting. It was hard to forget the smile she reserved for those she cared about. If only he could see that smile directed at him. He felt the corners of his lips twitch.

It is always like a Malfoy to be on guard at all times. But Hermione tended to bring out this relaxed trusting person from deep inside of Draco, a person he never believed to exist. It was perhaps because his mind was on her, that he did not hear the _crunch_ of footsteps in the soft, white snow behind him until it was too late.

"Someone's in a lot of trouble!" Draco swiveled around at the sound of Pansy Parkinson's cackling voice. There standing in the shade of the forest that surrounded the shack was Pansy Parkinson and a tall cloaked figure. The cloaked figure reached out a thin, dirty hand and grabbed Draco by the cuff of his cloak. Draco felt himself being pulled roughly so that he was nose to nose with the cloaked figure and gave out a cry of astonishment to see that it was his father's malevolent eyes looking out from under the hood.

"Come with me," Lucius spat. Draco shuddered against his father's harsh grip and wrinkled his nose against his foul breath. Lucius did not let his son down; instead he pulled harder on the cloak until Draco could feel the air leaving his lungs. "If you scream, I will kill you. Mark my words; I have no qualm with dealing death to traitors who love Mudbloods!" He let go of Draco then, who fell to the frosty ground, sputtering. Pansy grabbed Draco's arm and hoisted him up. Before Draco knew what was happening, a large hand was on his back forcing him towards the Shrieking Shack, over the rough, rusty fence and into the haunted house; Pansy trailing along after them. None of them seemed to notice a shadow in the woods or the confined footsteps of three people under one cloak appearing in the unblemished snow behind them…

Dun…dun…dun! I must admit this chapter was much shorter than the previous ones have been but I am working on it! Oh! Did anyone see the third movie? It inspired me a lot in this chapter! Your reviews are all so sweet and I appreciate your feedback! For those of you with concerns on the completion of the story, I have one thing to say: I will complete this story, this I promise. Thank you so much, your reviews are truly inspiring!


	14. Fourteen: The Beginning

**Author's Note:** Please don't kill me! A semester of high school with college classes AP courses and college applications is no piece of cake. The song "Cold" from Crossfade was a great influence on this chapter. Also, some reviews told me that I have not quite specified in this chapter, so some revisions have been made.

**Previously on Shadows of Light:**

_The castle was bright. The torches were lit. The library always tended to have a calming effect on her frazzled nerves. Cool logic began to wash over her, and for the first time in four weeks, she felt like herself. Suddenly, a thought that rejuvenated the old Hermione more than anything else jumped to mind…schoolwork! She probably hadn't gotten a thing done during her span of unintelligible obedience! She must be behind in all of her work!_

_Before Hermione knew it, she was racing up to the Gryffindor tower, shouting the password and stumbling up the steep stairs to the girl's dormitory. Hermione grabbed her books and rushed back down to the common room. While she was scribbling furiously, biting her lip in concentration, and flipping pages with such fervor that she actually ripped a few right out of the spine, a very confused Harry and Ron were standing in the bottom of the boys' staircase, blinking uncomprehendingly at the sight of their friend working in a way that they had not seen in so long._

"_Harry."_

_Harry turned to face who had spoken to him, his green eyes resting on Hermione. "Er… hey Hermione, what's up?"_

"_I need to talk to you and Ron. I know I've been acting a bit strange over the past few weeks…" She could see Draco's face, even though he was nowhere around, she shook her head and continued, "I just thought you might like some answers, and I know exactly who to ask."_

_The Shrieking Shack was a small way from the bustling town of Hogsmeade and that was the way Draco preferred it. He came up there to think while the other students got caught up in the hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade. It was always like a Malfoy to be on guard at all times. But Hermione tended to bring out this relaxed trusting person from deep inside of Draco, a person he never believed to exist. It was perhaps because his mind was on her, that he did not hear the crunch of footsteps in the soft, white snow behind him until it was too late._

"_Someone's in a lot of trouble!" Draco swiveled around at the sound of Pansy Parkinson's cackling voice. There standing in the shade of the forest that surrounded the shack was Pansy Parkinson and a tall cloaked figure. The cloaked figure reached out a thin, dirty hand and grabbed Draco by the cuff of his cloak. Draco felt himself being pulled roughly so that he was nose to nose with the cloaked figure and gave out a cry of astonishment to see that it was his father's malevolent eyes looking out from under the hood._

"_Come with me," Lucius spat. Draco shuddered against his father's harsh grip and wrinkled his nose against his foul breath. Lucius did not let his son down; instead he pulled harder on the cloak until Draco could feel the air leaving his lungs. "If you scream, I will kill you. Mark my words; I have no qualm with dealing death to traitors who love Mudbloods!" He let go of Draco then, who fell to the frosty ground, sputtering. Pansy grabbed Draco's arm and hoisted him up. Before Draco knew what was happening, a large hand was on his back forcing him towards the Shrieking Shack, over the rough, rusty fence and into the haunted house; Pansy trailing along after them. None of them seemed to notice a shadow in the woods or the confined footsteps of three people under one cloak appearing in the unblemished snow behind them…_

**Pairings:** Draco/Hermione

**Rating:** PG-13

**Disclaimer:** If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 17 year old girl who hates Beauty and the Beast and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

**Summary:** Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

**Shadows of Light**

**Chapter 14**

The Shrieking Shack was just as ominous and eerie on the inside, as it was from the outside. A thick layer of dust, discolored by something that looked horribly like dried blood, muffled their footsteps as they ascended the rickety staircase. Lucius nudged Draco in the back with his wand, forcing him to stumble further and further towards his unfathomable doom.

The hallway at the top of the stairs was covered in cobwebs; Draco could see bits and pieces of furniture strewn over the floor as if some powerful entity had crushed them in an insatiable rage.

An iridescent light flickered on the walls as they neared the end of the hall. There was a tall door which was slightly ajar, and Draco could see instantly that a fire was burning in the grate just inside. His mouth felt dry. He knees were shaking.

Lucius held out a hand and pushed the door open.

The room was empty save for the brightly burning fire and a rickety bed near the far wall. Draco scanned the room for exits, other than the door through which they had come; there was a small circular window in the center of the room. Draco realized with a thrill of horror that it was highly unlikely that both he and his father would exit this room alive. One would have to relinquish power to the other or perish.

For a moment, blind panic dictated his thoughts. He was outnumbered. It would be very unlikely that he was the one who would triumph. But what did he have to lose? Hermione's smiling face danced in front of his eyes though he was sure she was far, far away from him. In that moment, he realized that the only thing he had to lose was never his to begin with.

Draco felt an odd, tingling sensation snake up his spine robbing him of the ability to move. In horror, he realized that the time to act had passed. Pansy stepped forward holding a vial of clear liquid. She dangled the potion in Draco's face, so that the weak rays of the sun shining through the cracks of the decrepit shack could dance in its crystalline depths. There was a deafening silence as she unstopped the clear vial, grabbed Draco's neck with one long-nailed hand, and held the transparent liquid to his mouth with the other. In an instant, Draco was sputtering and the vial was empty.

"Now that you have taken the Veritaserum, we are going to find out how deeply that Mudblood has poisoned your reason," Lucius sneered beaconing Pansy to wait by the door for further instruction.

Draco opened his mouth, made a slight, strangled sound, and began to speak in a low, mechanical monotone. The story seemed to flow from his mouth in a voice that was not his own: the bludger he bewitched to attack him at his command during that fateful Quidditch match, so that he would have an aneurysm in his arm, the only thing Madame Pomfrey did not have the ingredients to heal. How he had had the antidote all along, allowing the entire student body to believe him fatally injured. How he used his "disability" to his advantage when Hermione was punished to write for him.

The wind howled furiously, beating against the rickety walls of the shack, but Draco droned on, unaware of the world around him, aware only of the truth; the truth that he was now forced to face.

Draco admitted that he was shaken, that there was something about Hermione Granger that originated the first night in the library that stirred something deep within him. He refused to admit that it was attraction, refused to believe it. He decided then to do something, anything that would put her in her place. The next day in Care of Magical Creatures class he used the Imperious Curse to force the squid to attack her. He wanted to watch her squirm, wanted to make her feel the dizzying, horrifying sensation she was making him feel. He hadn't meant for it to get out of hand, but the squid was dragging her under water. He did the only thing he could think of. He jumped in after her. He knew he would arouse suspicion, but it didn't seem to matter anymore, as long as she was safe.

The lack of emotion in his words strangely seemed to add to his sincerity. A slight _rustle_ sounded from the doorway but no one seemed to notice. The weak sunlight had vanished behind dark clouds leaving the hissing fire in the grate as the only light in the dilapidated shack. Draco continued his voice filling the emptiness of the room.

Harry Potter stood rigid in the doorway of the Shrieking Shack, his green eyes fixed on Lucius. Hermione's heart pounded painfully in her chest next to him. The invisibility cloak over her head rustled in the breeze. She could feel Harry's and Ron's hands on her arms as if they were holding her back from running to Draco as he told his tale.

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand when Draco mentioned the Bands of Bovioria. Hermione remembered only too well the loss of self, the sound of Draco's voice telling her what to do, what to say. Ron stiffened on her other side and made a soft hissing noise that she alone heard.

"When I arrived at Hogwarts, the sun had set. I heard a noise from above me by the lake. I could see two people, one was smaller, a female, the other was unmistakably male. I saw a flash of bright blue and I realized that the man had his own vial of Ditoritius. I ran towards them, but when I got there, the man had gone. I realized that it was Hermione Granger who had taken the potion and that she was released from the spell. I don't know who the other man was." Hermione snapped her head up, an uneasiness settling in the pit of her stomach. Someone knew what was going on, someone, they didn't know who, had saved hers and perhaps Draco's lives.

A ringing silence filled the hut. After a while, Lucius spoke, "Pansy, you will return to the school and do a simple tracing charm by the lake. It seems to me that not only Draco has betrayed our lord." Pansy nodded silently and left the shack. Lucius did not speak again until her footsteps died away completely.

Lucius walked towards his only son. The dirty black cloak he wore hooded his face so that only the cruel line of his mouth was visible. He stood in front of Draco for a few moments drinking in the sight of his immobile, half-drugged son.

"Pity," he whispered, "I had grown rather attached to you despite myself." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long black wand. "_AVADA…_"

For a split second, there was silence as if Lucius was taking his reluctant time with the spell.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Instantly, Hermione Granger appeared out of nowhere followed closely by Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

"Finite incantatum!" The sticking charm Lucius had used on Draco's feet evaporated and he fell to the floor. Draco might have been able to join the three Gryffindors plight against his father had it not been for the effect the Veritaserum had on him.

Lucius glared at the trio, his cruel eyes resting on Harry, Ron and then on Hermione. "One day," he snarled pointing his wand at Hermione. Harry and Ron pulled their wands out defensively. Hermione also had her wand out. Lucius sneered.

"OBLITERATE!"

Hermione realized with a thrill of horror that Lucius' wand had not been aimed at her, but at the crumpled heap on the floor that was Draco. Hermione dropped to her knees beside him.

"Draco?" she whispered turning him over. His eyes were closed and his breathing was rhythmic. Hermione shook him. "Draco!"

Lucius' sneer turned quickly to a scowl and with an echoing _crack_ he had vanished.

The walls of the Shrieking Shack shuddered as if made of water. Small tufts of snow entered through imperfections in the wood. A strong burst of wind put out the fire and the four were cloaked in semi-darkness. Harry looked at Hermione.

"We have to leave," he whispered.

"Draco! Wake up! Please wake up!"

Ron, who had stayed silent the entire time, suddenly spoke up. "Hermione, we should leave." His voice was oddly stern and his expression cold as he looked at her. Hermione did not seem to notice. The walls gave an untimely lurch.

Ron grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her to face him. His face was very red and his voice cracked as he spoke. "Hermione, he put you under a spell. He bloody used you!"

Hermione stared at Ron unflinchingly. "It doesn't matter," she whispered. Her eyes brimmed with tears. The Shack shook violently under the pressure of the screaming wind asunder.

Harry rushed over to Malfoy and pulled him up. Draco's head lolled strangely from side to side as the Shrieking Shack received another tremulous gust of wind that made the walls shake.

Ron let go of Hermione as if burnt. Immediately, she ran to help Harry hold Draco steady and the two of them clambered towards the door. Ron trudged behind them, his wand aimed at the back of Draco's head.

The wind made furious rasping sounds against the feeble wooden walls of the precariously built shack. The entire building shook violently as if the pull of the blizzard would unearth it.

"The place is going to collapse!" Harry shouted as they slowly descended the staircase.

Hermione gasped. "Bloody hell!" Ron shouted as the stairwell lurched ominously.

"We'll have to go out through the tunnel that leads to the Whomping Willow!" Harry instructed.

He and Hermione lumbered under Draco's dead weight; he groaned softly but made no other sound, still unconscious.

The howling of the Shrieking Shack grew softer as the four clambered along the sullied tunnel underneath the Whomping Willow. The secret passage seemed never-ending and no one was willing to break the deafening silence, making the journey to safety lengthy and awkward.

Finally, they came to the opening. Ron went first, prodding the knot on the trunk of the Willow, effectively stilling the thrashing of the tree. He climbed out followed, with difficulty, by Harry, Hermione and the comatose Draco.

The wind and snow whipped their faces. Harry, Ron and Hermione shrunk closer together attempting to shield themselves from the biting cold of the wind and snow.

"Why don't we just leave the sodding git here?" Ron yelled over the screaming wind.

"NO!" Hermione shouted. As if to further defy Ron, she pulled harder on Draco's limp form and quickened her pace against the furious elements.

"Hermione's right, Ron, we can't just leave him here," Harry reasoned matching his pace to Hermione's.

"Why the bloody hell not?" Ron jogged to keep up with the two. "It's not like he deserves to be taken to the castle like a bloody prince! Parkinson?"

They came across the lake, stopping suddenly at the sight of a half-frozen Pansy sitting in the snow gaping at the crystalline black surface of the lake in disbelief.

She looked up at the sound of her name. "Snape!" she shrieked.

"You must be dumber than you look, Parkinson, I'm Ron Weasley!" Ron snapped, furious at the interruption. Harry and Hermione exchanged darkly significant looks and pulled Ron back.

Pansy straightened up pointing her wand at the quartet.

"I don't know how the four of you escaped Mr. Malfoy alive, but I will make sure…" "STUPEFY!" Hermione screamed; her face was very red. Pansy fell, head first into the snow: stunned.

"That was brilliant," Ron muttered.

"We have to get to Dumbledore!" Harry ordered hoisting Pansy up.

_He_ was alive if nothing else. Light danced behind his eyelids causing him to stir slightly. The dull roar of voices penetrated the ringing in his ears. He realized that his head was throbbing steadily. He attempted to collect his thoughts, tried to recollect his last memories, but found himself only drawing a long, confused blank.

He dimly recognized the room he was in as the Hospital Wing in Hogwarts, but how he got there and how long he had been there remained a mystery. He closed his eyes against the blinding white of the lanterns above his head and concentrated. The last thing he recalled was the beginning of the term; he had been… plotting against… someone. He had been so full of anger and vengeance then. He mulled the day over in his head, trying to remember, trying to understand. He could not. Something in him had changed.What had seemed so important to him was now nothing… it was no longer worth it, whatever it was. He was no longer angry, but remorseful for what he had lost. What _had_ he lost?

A small gasp alerted him to his present surroundings. He opened his eyes slowly, gingerly. Someone was standing above him whispering something. All the light in room seemed concentrated behind this person's head turning whoever it was into a shadow looming over his bed.

The person was small in stature and had a distinctly feminine frame. That was all he could see of her. She was darkness, the angel of darkness that lay before him, the darkness he would never escape. Vaguely he could hear her whispering something, a name he almost did not recognize as his own. "Draco…Draco…"

_The_ snow fell in soft sheets over the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione stood in the spot by the lake allowing the snow to wash over her, to cleanse her. Her hair was sticking to her face and her fingers and toes were frozen. She pulled her black robes closer around her. She knew she should move, she should leave, but she could not. Perhaps the cold had kept her rooted to the spot or something else was keeping her there, something much more sinister within her very soul.

She had wanted to cry for him, to express the emotion he was incapable of, but she could not. She could only watch him from afar. He was gone; the person that had needed her, that had opened himself to her, that had loved her was no more. He was an empty shell of what she used to admire.

She could only bear on as she was bearing the stinging cold of the snow on her cheeks. A dry sob escaped her mouth and she fell to her knees, her anguish too heavy to hold up any longer. She buried her head in her icy hands and waited, waited for her heart to stop racing, waited for the pain to subside, waited for the world to right itself, unaware that it already had at her expense.

She stood up able again to take hold of her burden. As she walked back to the castle, the weight upon her grew heavier and heavier but she would endure. She would always have to endure. Her only savior was her tormentor. Her only hope was to trudge on, hoping one day she could defeat the torment in her soul.

_Okay, I've been giving a lot of thought to your reviews, thus far,and have this to say: There will be a sequel indefinately, thank you for giving me the momentum I need to continue this story. There isn't supposed to be a sense of closure on the story because there will be a sequel. I never said Draco and Hermione were in love (thank you very much) Draco most definately is not dead, he's just lost his memory. Reviews are always welcome._

Thank you,

Ardent Entity


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